To Be A Hero
by Echo Chambers
Summary: Alanna and Kel didn't worry about the rights and wrongs of killing. They had firm beliefs by the time they first saw battle. But what if they didn't? How would a girl cope with killing at the age of ten? Rynn struggles with just that.
1. Chapter One

I must apologize for the name problems I had last time I updated. As many of my reviewers have pointed out, the name switched half way through the story. _**I'm so sorry about the change of name**_! I've now fixed it, and hopefully you wont mind the new name.

In regards to a review about the summary, _**I realize that Trebond was a bandit-area fief**_ and it was used as a reason in the TP books for Alanna to already know how to shoot an arrow and do some basic fighting. However, I've interpreted that to mean that the fighting arts played a major part in the lives of those at the Trebond fief, NOT that she ever fought live, let alone killed anyone. I believe that no one would've let a noble child, let alone a girl (who was supposed to be modest, meek, quiet and become a pretty lady) fight bandits. So, I think Rynn's the only one who killed before page training.

Oh, and _**I know HaMinch is supposed to be the page trainer**__,_ but I feel more comfortable writing about Wyldon, so I'm using the flexibility of the Fan Fiction world to keep him at his post for the purposes of this story.

(the bold/underlined/italic words are to help skim-readers, not out of anger or annoyance)

Thank you all for reading, and thanks for all the reviews!!!

XXxXXXxXX

Three years had passed since Lady Kelandry exited the Chamber Of Ordeal and already things were settling down. Once the conservatives found their daughters weren't rushing off to fight they'd calmed down a lot. So far, no one, well, no noble girls, had even written to Lord Wyldon to enroll as a new page. There were, admittedly, a large number of women fighting in the Riders, but that had been open to females before Kelandry got her shield. Now, as mid winter once more distracted the pages with it's promise of a whole week free of training, Lord Wyldon was relaxing at the promise of another normal year. That, however, was not to last.

Even as the training master closed his eyes for another peaceful nights rest, a disturbance stumbled its way up the sleeping Main Street. The disturbance was, to put it more politely, a young girl, bent and determined to become the next female page. Corus, a city far north of her homeland, was quite the shocker with its towering snowdrifts, freezing winds and gray skies. Back down south, farmers considered it a bad omen if the grass frosted before Yule. Corus' Main Street had been white since Samhain; that wasn't good news for Rynn.

Rynn came from SouthRidge, a very poor farmers' fief settled comfortably against the Southern Wall - a mountain range shielding Tortall from the Great Inland Sea and dividing it from Tyra. In those plains she had grown up in short dresses and cotton breeches around farm boys who worked shirtless most of the year. In that fertile 'bread basket' she had never seen so much as a speck of snow upon her roof. Understandably, Rynn was astounded, annoyed and completely unprepared for the immense amount of snow that had greeted her as far away as Prendor. It was a lot of snow, even for Corus.

So, logically, as she came from a poor fief and walked north ill equipped for such weather, Rynn walked the street in an awkward bundled of summer clothes. With no scarf, nor any mittens, she had kindly been given a patched up coat one town back which Rynn stuffed her cold hands into gratefully. If there was one thing she had learned on the road, it was that one should never pass up free goods, especially if they were useful. For the useless things, like a straw hat or leather hair thong (she had chopped her lock completely off at the following town), there was always someone she could trade them for to earn a copper or two. The straw hat had been eagerly accepted by a farmer's boy who also took the hair tie for his girl. Those four coppers had given her a warm bath and beef soup during a rainstorm in Momoth. Thinking of such things and random others, like if the peas she'd helped her family plant three long moths ago had harvested well and whether or not Lord Wyldon would accept her, Rynn crunched her way through still-falling snow.

The palace gates were huge. Ten men wide, each oak door stood taller than two men head to toe. Reinforced with thick strips of iron and bolts as large as her fist it was quite an intimidating sight. High above her, three guards peered down, however, they seemed a little bored. "What do you want?" one snapped, nothing but a large bulbous nose visible in the flickering light of his lantern.

"I am Rynn of SouthRidge," she shouted back at him. "I would like to become a page here, sir." While it hadn't always been her dream, it was a necessity she didn't mind taking care of. With her parents and older brother dead, it fell to her, the oldest child, to take over the fief as soon as possible. The best way to get the needed education: knighthood. For the time being, her grandmother Narrisah, would watch over her home with the help of one of the villagers, Jacob.

"Alrigh'" the soldier called back. One of the other men disappeared, climbing down some staircase on the other side of the wall. The enormous doors creaked open just far enough for her to slip through. The man on the other side glared at her.

"You realize how hard this thing is to get open?" he snarled rhetorically. "The ice freezes it shut!" Rynn said nothing, but walked on, the grouchy soldier yanking the gate closed behind her. The trek past the stables was the hardest part yet. Sitting inconsiderately on a high hilltop, the castle was swamped in an incredible three feet of snow which Rynn sank into every step of the way. She really hoped she had yet to hit her growth spurt because the snow was up to her naval.

Struggling up the steps she was finally greeted by a welcome sight; just disappearing through a servants side door was the hem of some woman's dress. Running over Rynn grabbed the door just before it closed. Thrusting it open, she came face to face with a very startled servant. The woman's surprised expression swiftly took in her clothes and a scowl settled upon her face.

"May I help you?" asked the woman. Polite though her words were, her stare was harsh and arrogant.

"Please, let me inside ma'am. My toes have gone completely numb!" Rynn exclaimed. When the woman didn't budge she continued. "I am here to see the training master as I would like to enroll as a page." Finally the woman let her in, though if the agitated shuffle of her brown skirts had any meaning what so ever, she was not happy at the arrangement.

"The Lord is not available at the moment, I am sure," she scoffed. "It is very late."

"I understand, ma'am. But I have traveled very far to get here and this part of the land is new to me. I did not know how long it would take to walk from Fairview to here." The woman didn't care the least bit about her reasons or excuses, nor did she seem inclined to offer any assistance. "Is there a place I can sleep for the night? I am afraid I may freeze to death if I wait outside." Rynn had a point, even the woman could see that her clothes were soaked and her face was red with the cold.

"Sleep here," the woman told her, pointing at the ground. "And do not bother the Lord until it is morning." Rynn nodded and thanked her, but she had already turned away, hurrying down the hall and out of sight.

Even beneath her stiff fingers, it was painfully obvious that the hall was far too cold. So, easily ignoring the servant woman's instructions, Rynn continued to walk silently down the hall. Turning left where the woman had gone right, Rynn soon found herself in a hall lined with heavy tapestries of life-consuming embroidery. Just thinking about the years it must've taken the women made Rynn nod to their accomplishment, not to mention the delicately planned artwork of the whole thing. Past that hall she caught quiet voices.

It took a long time and much tired wandering for Rynn to stumble across a warm draft of air. Inching a bit closer she found the embers of a fire. The fireplace, nicely situated in an indented room furnished with studious chairs and tables, called to her like a moth to a flame. Sleepily she lay down before it and in seconds she was asleep, completely unaware of the man sitting at the corner table.

Sir Raoul didn't even bother looking up when he heard a servant come in to stoke the embers. The old man, Rennet, often came by to check on any late-night readers; he was a kind old man, always helpful and looking out for others. Raoul turned another page and jotted a note down on his parchment. _Tyra ~ founded as attempted Utopia_. From the corner of his eye he saw the servant kneel before the fire. Skimming the page Raoul found Tusaine had actually been created by a rebellious group in Maren called Sak Markku, translated meaning 'The Rebels''. Raoul rolled his eyes. Ancient people had been so original.

At the fire Rennet was certainly taking his time. Glancing up to see if he needed help, Raoul blinked. Rennet wasn't by the fire, rather, a bundled little boy had fallen asleep at the hearth. It looked to be a servant boy, soaked by the snow and shivering with the cold. Deciding to let him be, Raoul picked up his quill once more and resumed his note taking. With the recent hostility between Tyra and Tortall's south farmers he had felt a little history review might be helpful.

XxXxX

Hours later Raoul was yawning as he squinted at yet another scroll. The letters were blurring before his tired eyes when the morning bell shook him from his stupor. Rubbing his eyes and wishing that he'd slept more, Raoul pushed back his chair and hurriedly gathered his things. If he grabbed a quick breakfast Raoul could still have a few hours to nap… As he moved to leave, the sight of the servant boy caught his eye. The little tike would probably get in trouble for sleeping in, and it didn't look like he'd be waking up any time soon. Setting his things back down on the table Raoul walked over and gently shook his shoulder.

The boy jerked beneath his touch, scrambling up, a hand beginning to pull out a dagger. He froze, returning it to his belt at the sight of the noble man. "I just wanted to make sure you were up," Raoul explained gently. "The morning bell rang a few minutes ago." The words didn't spark the panic he'd expected in the servants eyes. Rather, a shocking question fell from his lips.

"Sir, do you know where I could find the training master?" Misreading Raoul's shocked look as scorn, the boy quickly backtracked. "Oh, I'm sorry. It is too early, of course. Um, I'll go later, but do you know when the best time is? I can wait, really sir!" Raoul chuckled at his rushed words.

"No, that's not a problem, son," Raoul told him. "I'm sure he's been up for quite a while. I am wondering, though, why you need to see him? Perhaps I can help you instead."

The boy didn't pay his offer any mind. "No sir, but thank you. I need to ask him if I can become a page." Raoul blinked. The servant was actually a noble? Or perhaps he wasn't quite right in the head. That would explain why it was already winter and the boy wanted to talk to the man.

"What's your name?" he asked. I'm Raoul of Goldenlake."

"Oh, I apologize my lord. I am Rynn of SouthRidge." And on second look, the boy _was_ very feminine. It was, perhaps, simply from the short hair and young, unisex, features of the eleven year old that Raoul had even thought she was a boy in the first place.

"Rynn," he said, picking up his books once more, "I'm headed by his office. If you would like, I will show you the way." With a bow and a "thank you sir!" she followed him closely, her wet boots squeaking on the stone floors.

XxXxX

Lord Wyldon was awake when Rynn was called through the door. Very awake and very displeased. "You didn't think to send a letter ahead, announcing your arrival date or asking to enroll?" he asked her sharply, his thick knuckled hands folded calmly on his desk. It was unnerving.

"I apologize sir," she told him. What he said was true, and it was also unnecessary to add that she hadn't had the slightest idea when she would arrive.

His black eyes stared at her intently, as if scrutinizing her every hair. Rynn was painfully quite aware that it had been a week and a half since her last bath. The weather hadn't permitted any bathing in the steam. "Training began early September. Do you realize the amount of work it will take to catch up - if you can catch up?" and he sounded very doubtful that she could, but she nodded.

"Yes, my lord."

Sir Wyldon looked annoyed at her short responses. Most first years were babbling with excuses. "Why were you late, SouthRidge."

"My fief was attacked by b-bandits late July," she said, swiftly squashing the stutter from her voice. "I remained to help… clean up until late August when I came here, my lord."

"It is a two week trip." He told her shortly, obviously unimpressed by her 'lie'.

"A two week trip by horse, my lord. I walked." Lord Wyldon glared at her stupid lie. Pages were always trying to look tough, but lying to the training master was stepping over the line.

"I highly doubt that you walked that far. That is over a thousand miles." What a ridiculous child. She should at least have the decency to look ashamed when someone knew that she was lying. Instead the girl's fingers started drumming at her side. Lord Wyldon noted with slight curiosity that she had apparently taken to wearing an ax at her side. 'As if she could lift such a thing, let alone wield it' he thought with disdain.

"My Lord," she said, a defensive edge sticking in her tone. "I walked here. All the way here on my own, over a thousand miles and I will swear it before the Goddess herself." She was a dramatic little girl. "SouthRidge is a very poor fief. We are in debt and don't have very many horses. After the attack we had four horses and nine burnt fields. They needed to use the horses for replanting and I needed to come to Corus at the same time, sir. Obviously the good of the fief comes before the good of the noble daughter and I had to walk here. That is why I am late, my Lord."

Reaching inside his pocket, Wyldon dipped his fingers in a small sack of eyebright. "You truly walked nearly the entire length of the Great Road South without a horse or a companion?" he asked her, anticipating the lie. So, it was to his great surprise when she answered "yes, sir" and there was no red glow. An eleven year old walked her way to Corus. Frankly, he was surprised she'd survived. Maybe she could make a good warrior.

"That ax at your hip," he asked suddenly. "Can you use it?" She looked shocked he'd even mention it. She nodded, for once forgetting the 'yes sir.' He doubted it, but most pages couldn't tell a dagger from a sword when they showed up, so it didn't really matter.

"You can train here.' he told her bluntly. "But know that if you cannot catch up, there will be no exceptions to the exams. A failure is a failure no matter how many months you have trained." He paused as the information sank in. "I will assign you a sponsor before dinner tonight, so I advise you spend the day gathering your uniform and putting away your things. A servant will show you to your room and I advise you find where the baths are as well." And on that last scathing remark, he dismissed her from the room.

XxXxX

A boy named Bryan, a third year, offered to be her sponsor and Rynn spent the evening awkwardly seated amongst his friends who didn't even bother to include her in their conversation. But she figured, looking back, that it really didn't matter. She, after all, was intruding on their normalcy. Thankful for the night without work and with a bed, she stripped down to her loincloth and moved into the washroom to get ready for bed.

The scuffed up brass mirror reflected a face she hadn't seen in a long while. Brushing her teeth, she met her dark brown eyes. She still had that scar on her temple, just missing the edge her eyebrow. It seemed even more visible with her recent haircut. The puckered line was too new to lie flat, so it stretched cruelly at the skin around it. It was ugly, but she was with a bunch of boys so who cared. She hoped it wasn't brought up though. That battle was something she'd rather forget.

Her hair was shorter; she'd had a maid chop it off so short it lay completely flat on her head. There weren't even any long pieces reaching from the top of her head to her ears like most of the boys. It wasn't going to move around at all. She was thankful. The long hair she used to have, shoulder length and ashy-brown, had been used against her in the battle.

Washing her face she walked back to the main room and settled into bed. Still very tired she fell asleep two full bells before lights out, not even stirring as they rang. Later, however, that was not the case.

After the midnight bell, in the silent hours before dawn, Rynn rolled over, a pale hand reaching out in the dark, but she had carefully place her axe across the room for just that reason. She tossed and turned, kicking the blankets off the bed. She shoved the pillow up against the headboard. "No, no," she muttered, her hands gripping the bed fiercely. "They're coming!" she called, thrashing in the bed. "Let go! No! Alex! ALEX!" she yelled. She was writhing on the bed, thrashing as if to escape some invisible bonds. "ALEX!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice breaking with anguish. And in the room beside her Corbin jolted up in bed.

Cursing, still bleary eyed from sleep, he stomped out the door barefooted and half-dressed. The noise had come from the new girls room. What the hell was wrong with her! Slamming his fist down on the door he called. "Something wrong? If not, shut up!" He got no response but silence. In a huff he walked back to his room, slammed the door and fell back asleep.

Rynn sat on her bed in silence. The fist on the door had woken her and she realized she'd had the nightmare again. On the road, where she walked until she fell from exhaustion, she hadn't dreamt much. Quite suddenly Rynn was terrified the nightmares would return. They differed every time, as if her mind was picking and choosing the worst scenes of the battle to remind her of. But she didn't want to think about it. Standing up she remade her bed but knew she wouldn't fall asleep again. Instead she lit a candle and opened her clothes drawer. It was the only part of her room that had stuff in it. Inside she had two practice uniforms, two casual or class uniforms and her old clothes and personals. Realizing how sweaty she would get in practice, she didn't get dressed, just washed her face and picked up her axe.

She indeed knew how to use it. The heavy weapon was the most practical in her fief where everyone worked just to get by. Beside the villagers she had plowed the fields and gathered fire wood and cleaned stalls and made meals. But, as a noble, she also got to learn. Her mother had taught her to read. Her father had taught her to ride. And Lucas, the kind man who ran the inn had taught her how to wield the axe. It sickened her, to remember what it felt like to use it for real, against an enemy. Thrusting the blade into flesh was completely different than chopping it into wood. But it had saved her life, and the life of a few others and she knew that as a knight it was what she would have to do.

So Rynn sank into her fighting stance and did what Lucas had called a pattern dance. It was not graceful, as the name would lend one to thinking. Instead it was just a combination of difficult, basic and necessary moves so she could practice the individual actions as well as her ability to switch from one move to another.

The axe had been heavy and awkward when Rynn had first tried to wield it. At five years old even chopping down a tree had been hard. But years passed and her arms strengthened quickly under the heavy weight while her fingers callused and adjusted to the strange stance. So when Rynn switched to her left hand halfway through, she didn't even pause. Panting and sweating, Rynn felt horribly awake yet the sun hadn't yet risen above the horizon. Again she washed her face and body in the washroom and pondered what to do.

Much pacing, a few dozen pushups and many minutes of stretching later Rynn finally heard the waking bell. Yawning she washed yet again, dressed and waited for her sponsor. Bryan knocked on the door just as she reached for the handle to find her own way to the Mess. He seemed surprised when she opened the door so promptly. "G-good morning" he said. She nodded and he seemed to take it for sleepiness and smiled. "Better get used to it, you'll be up this early everyday for the next four years of your life, and I hear after that, it only gets earlier!" She just nodded absently as she followed him to the Mess. It didn't really matter if he thought she had woken up late or not.

Again Rynn ended up sitting amongst a loud group of boys who paid her no attention. Quietly she ate her porridge and listened to playful joking, complaints about homework and random chatter. She hoped she'd make friends here. It'd be a very lonely four years if she didn't.

XxXxX

It was freezing outside in the practice courts, her breath came in short puffs of white that the fast wind whisked away. "Warm up: five laps! GO!" shouted a deep-voiced man who was obviously the trainer. With a start, she obediently followed the other boys around the large court at a fast jog. Snow splashed from her boots up her back and soon she could feel herself going numb again. But it didn't matter. This was where she wanted to be and though her legs were tired by the fourth lap, she pushed along with the other panting boys. They stood straight, though they wanted to put their hands on their hips or knees, and listened as the trainer shouted out directions.

They would start with staff fighting. Rynn hoped it wouldn't be all that different from the axe, because that was all she could use. Following the boy's lead again, she grabbed a staff from the bucket standing next to the trainer. When he noticed she was new he grabbed her wrist. Jerking away from the contact she stared at him, just as startled as he. Settling his expression quickly into a hard look he told her, "That staff's too short." Returning it, annoyed at herself for already making a mistake, she took the one thrust at her. "Rangeferd," he called out another boy. "Work with her."

The boy was tall. "Will of Rangeferd." He introduced himself shortly. The page seemed to know what they were supposed to do, and lead her to the end of the line of pages who were paired up and waiting. "Do you know anything about staff fighting?"

"Uh, not really, sir." He nodded to himself.

"Okay, get in a fighting stance." Rynn did so, hoping it wasn't that different from an axe. Crouching down she held the staff double handedly and close to the base using only the bottom third of the wood as with the axe she had to to balance the weight. Standing with staggered feet, her body was tilted away from him. It was a technique to mimic having a shield, something obviously very hard to do when the axe required two hands for many of the moves. Will frowned.

"Here, copy me." His stance, perfect for the strikes and blocks she was about to learn, was a face-to-face style that spread her hands wide in the center of the wood. Biting her lip, she copied and the basics began. Strike. Block. Strike. Block. She and Will worked steadily, and slowly for the entire lesson, the other boys glanced at her with looks as if to say, 'looser, you can't even wield a staff!', but she ignored them. It didn't really matter if they couldn't remember what it was like when they started. She contented herself with the idea that most of them were in her place only a few months ago.

The staff portion ended with numb soaking wet feet, and sore knuckles. Returning her staff to the bin she trudged with the sweaty boys over to archery.

Now, that was something she could sort of do. At least, she could shoot a long bow okay. And thank goodness, they weren't working on cross bow! With aching fingers she pulled back the bow and shot. It missed the target by inches. The training master wasn't impressed. Again they worked from the basics up and by the end her toes were numb, her left foot soaked because her boot still had a hole in it, and her fingers were red and painful to move. But, at least she had hit the bull's eye eleven times.

That ended the working portion of the day, and Rynn learned, courtesy of Bryan, that they rotated workouts and first years would soon be moving onto swords. She had to catch up fast to make the end of year exams. At least classes weren't hard. She could read, and do math, and knew about the court system a bit. The hard thing was staying focused, because he eyes were drooping shut. Biting her lip every once in a while helped, but at dinner she was dozing off over turkey. She excused herself early, and wandered back up to her room. A bath later she crawled into bed and fell asleep. She'd do her homework in the morning.

Indeed, somewhere between the midnight bell and sunrise she began to toss and turn.

**Please leave a review!**


	2. Chapter Two

XxXxX

Four years later the famous Raoul of Goldenlake watched yet another year of page exams. The fourth years were up and it was time for the hand-to-hand combat portion. He watched as a boy with blonde hair stretched across from one with brown hair. Taking another look, Raoul peered closer at the brunette. Was that… yes, it must be the girl page. Of course, much less of a fuss had been made over this page. In fact, he wasn't even certain of her name, but the court knew of her existence. Women were still an oddity in such a field.

After a quick stretch, probably still warm from their sword match, the pair moved into the center of the ring and the judges quieted their old-folk chattering. The crowd watched closely as the fat man refereeing lowered his hand.

The boy seemed wary. Of course, they had trained together for years and were well aware of each other's abilities. A look crossed the girls face, and dare Raoul say, it looked like one of annoyance or impatience. So, showing a nerve that _had_ to be from inexperience, the girl lunged quickly forward. The boy, predictably, danced out of the way, but the girl was suddenly in front of him again. A hard kick went for his legs. He dodged and before Raoul could wonder at her stupidly open moves or the boy could even begin a counter attack, her fist had slammed solidly into his nose with a crunch that made the whole audience wince. He dropped like a stone and she straightened up. A healer rushed over, and the girl helped the man carry her opponent out of the ring. Raoul watched her go.

He had just watched the fourth years test in archery a few minutes ago. There the girl had convinced him she was a failure. After all, few fourth year pages couldn't hit a bulls eye, and _no_ pages broke their string on their third attempt. The third try was supposed to be the charm. Not the 'Oops, I got a bit to excited,' time. Honestly. But in the ring just there the girl had shown real talent. She was fast and strong and daring. Those moves weren't supposed to work like that, but it had been a complete success. Silently, Raoul turned back to the second match as it started. He would keep his eye on that girl.

It turned out her name was Rynn and she came from the unknown fief of SouthRidge. She was average with the sword, steady with the lance, smart in the classroom, polite and quiet. Despite all that normalcy, Raoul was intrigued. He was a good judge of people, years of life had taught him that, and his gut was telling him there was more to Rynn than met the eye. Seven years ago he had taken Kelandry as his squire and he hadn't planned on taking another one. Yet, all of a sudden, he was wondering if he might just take on one more. Rynn was special; he just didn't know why.

The next day Raoul went down to the practice courts for a friendly spar against Gary, a good friend. And, true to history, he lost in a close battle made a bit quicker by age, though they would both swear it was experience. As he was sipping some water, he surveyed the neighboring courts. To his left the royal ladies were just finishing up their glaive practice and to his right the youngest pages were running by in some warm up laps, no doubt for some time-passing combat lessons since, technically, they were off for the summer. But, once the herd passed, he caught a glimpse of ash-brown hair.

Leaving Gary with a friendly "See ya" Raoul walked over to the far court. Sure enough, it was Rynn. He sat on the surrounding fence to watch. A extra glance of the head told him Rynn knew he was there, but was content to continue her work. He watched carefully as she ran through a long pattern dance with fast, precise steps. He smiled. He knew why she was special now.

Rynn wielded an axe like she was born with it in her hand. The heavy, and truthfully awkward, weapon fit her like a glove. Her steps and form were completely accurate: her movement was natural. Suddenly Raoul _really_ wanted another squire. He really, really wanted to take her with him when he went town to town, not for commanding reasons like Kel, but for working reasons. She would never be a commander, too rash and independent. But she was polite and respectful, she hardly seemed like one to complain, and thinking of all the experience she'd get out on the road with his just made him excited! With the war over now, too many squires sat around in nice cities, winning fancy competitions but never actually seeing what it's like _live_. He waited for her to finish the dance and when she walked over, he stood to greet her.

"Hello, sir," she said with a bow, strict and formal. He smiled a bit, formalities really meant nothing out there in the real world.

"Hello. I was wondering if I might have a word with you." And, bless her, she actually looked confused. Honesty. As a fourth year page what else would he want but to ask her to be his squire? But Rynn nodded and hefted her axe casually over her shoulder as if were as light as a bow. Exactly like Thompson, the only axe wielding soldier in his company, did. With Rynn's dark eyes meeting his he said, "I watched you a bit yesterday and asked around. I was wondering if you wanted to be my squire? You have quite a talent with that axe of yours."

Raoul had to fight back a laugh at the look on her face. Instead he just smiled at her shocked expression. Her mouth dropped open like a fish, but like a warrior, her grip on the axe was instinctively firm. Breaking into a smile herself she laughed as she asked. "Serious, sir?" Gods, even in shock she didn't forget manners. At his nod she just put her hand to her head in embarrassment. "Of course I want to be your squire, Lord Raoul!" He chuckled. She was quite the character.

"Very well, but we leave with little warning, so it'd be best if you move into the room beside mine by tomorrow." She was nodding, biting her lip absently as she took it all in. "I'd like to check your supplies then as well." Another nod. He turned to leave and she bowed again.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you very much!"

XxXxX

The room beside Raoul's was smaller than that in the pages wing, but Rynn found it a good fit. After all, the Kings Own moved about very often and small empty rooms were much more practical than large ones. Over the past three and a half years her stash of belongings hadn't grown much. Her family was on loans as it was just to pay for her training. Loans she'd tried to help with each summer by working odd jobs in the city and competing in tiny tournaments. They still were very in debt. So, her original breeches, the two pairs she'd worn on her long trip, as well as the shirt and scarf, were all still with her, joined only by a new pair of boots. In fact, the very battle axe she practiced with was only borrowed from the castle stores. Her original friend, which she still practiced with often, was an ordinary wood axe, a bit over sharpened, but it did it's job well.

So, sitting on her new bed she, naturally, began to worry. Perhaps she shouldn't have taken his offer. It had seemed too good to be true, a field knight and a famous one at that, offering to be her knight master. Of course he was going to expect good things. But she didn't have the money! She could hardly expect to be able to pay him back. Her fief was so deeply in debt that it was only by the fact that everyone _around_ them was slightly in debt and were compassionate that she still had a fief! Putting all her land and workers together would just about cover the debt, it was that big. Her fingers ran over the familiar shaft of the wood axe worriedly. Standing up she sank into a fighting stance. She couldn't keep worrying. It was driving her insane.

The room, however, was not big enough for a full pattern dance, so Rynn simplified it, using a few short moves over and over and over again instead. For Pete's sake, she didn't even have a horse! Trying to push the worry from her mind she went faster. Poor and unequipped, what was Raoul going to think of her?! Faster and faster she struck, but she wanted something more physical. Abruptly she stopped and set the axe against the far wall, before throwing herself on the bed. Grabbing her silencing stone(1) from her pocket she threw the necklace around her neck because she knew she was going to cry. She had worked so hard and gotten all her hopes up, and now she was going to be told he didn't want to take her anymore. After all, Raoul said it himself, he'd only gotten interested in her a few days ago. He'd change his mind and tell her it was all a mistake!

A hiccuping sob escaped her, but it made no noise in the room as her shoulders shook and she began to cry. She had wanted so much to have this opportunity, the door opened and she gasped in surprise. Not when she was all teary!

Whirling around she came face to face with Raoul. He seemed taken aback by the tears she was quickly scrubbing off her face. "I-I just heard you finish practicing rather abruptly and wondered it everything was okay…" he said, trailing off at the sight of more tears. He looked rather at a loss of what to do. Kel had always been so strong. Maybe she wasn't really fit to be a knight.

Rynn was having the same thoughts as she burst into more tears. Turning her face away, she buried her head in her hands, but knew she had to explain. Taking the stone off she hoped he didn't pay it much mind, she didn't really want to explain her nightmares right now.

"I - I'm so sorry," she hiccuped, trying to force down the tears. "I shouldn't h-have said I would be your squire. I d-dont have the things. We're in debt, see and I c-can't pay for it and I don't have a horse, or a battle axe or even a good pair of breeches and I'm so sorry to have w-wasted your time, I really, really am. I just really wanted to, but it was really s-stupid of me and -" but he cut her off, suddenly fighting a shocked smile.

"You're worried about the money?" he asked, incredulous. At her nod he did laugh. "I knew you were from a poor fief when I heard your name. I don't care about that. As your knight master it's _my _job to get you what you need."

"But -"

He didn't let her finish. "No, I _want _you to be my squire. I've had a wary eye on you since you came in and you've done well the whole time. I was very impressed in your first year at how well you caught up. Not just anyone can make up a whole half-term in a few short months." She seemed to have stopped crying, thankfully. "Now, if you're alright, I was hoping to go over your things and we can get this whole mess out of the way." She nodded, discreetly pocketing the necklace as she stood.

"I have this dagger," she pulled it from her belt. "And that wood axe. And I have these breeches and shirts and these boots." She concluded the short list, pointing each item out. Raoul forced himself not to sigh. She obviously felt bad about it already. So, pretending it didn't bother him that that was all she had for the past few years, he examined the dagger.

"It'll do, Raven work is better, of course, but anything from Hansford is good." He picked up the axe. It was over sharpened and the wood polish had worn off in some places. He marveled that she didn't get splinters. The heavy villagers axe even _felt_ old. "This isn't what you were using yesterday," he commented lightly.

"No," she blushed. "That's a battle axe I borrow from the stores every once in a while. But other folks use it a lot too, so often I just stick with this one."

"How old is it, any ways?" He asked in a sort of morbid curiosity. He wondered how many blows it could take before it broke.

"Um, I'm not sure. I brought it with me when I came here, so that's four years, but I got it from Old Lucas, he gave it to me when I turned seven, so that's seven years, but looking back he taught me how to chop fire wood with, and it was old then, so at least fifteen years. He was rather old though, so anything bigger because you never know what's been passed down father to son in SouthRidge."

He stared at her, incredulously. "And how long did you think it would stand against an opponent?"

She blushed again. "Um… with the Gods on my side-"

"And they sure step in a lot," he muttered under his breath. "That's all weapon wise?" He asked, biting back a frown at her nod. He then glanced at the breeches she pointed out, slightly surprised she'd even mentioned them. After all, it was rather assumed people had such basics. The clothes, however, seemed as old as the axe.

Raoul raised and eyebrow. "I heard you worked jobs in Corus every summer." he said, seeming to jump topics randomly. Glad that he had found her clothes satisfactory, Rynn didn't question the topic switch.

"Yes, sir. I worked a bit at a pub and a stable, but mostly in the farms just outside the city."

"And you spent the money on…?"

She frowned at the question. "I sent it home to my family. They're in debt, sir." This time he did sigh.

"When you go down to the tailors later today to get the uniforms in my colors, make sure to purchase an extra two pairs of new breeches and two new shirts. These ones have seen far too many days," said Raoul. Indeed, the brown material was stretched and torn, stained with mud, and a bit of blood, and grass. When his eye caught the same stain of blood on the shirt he had to ask.

"What is the blood from?"

Rynn glanced at him, shocked. Not many others had figured out the brown stain was blood. She'd tried very hard to get it all out, but it refused, and after the years, she had come to accept it as some strange form of revenge from the men she had helped kill. It remained to remind her of her past. Gulping she drug her eyes from the stain.

"B-before I left SouthRidge t-there was an attack," she said vaguely. Raoul's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he studied the girl before him once more. She was very young then. It must've been terrifying. He wondered vaguely just how bad the battle had been, to force the children to help care for the injured.

That wasn't important at the moment though. Standing he realized all traces of the tears were gone now. She stood as well. "You need a sword, armor, and two horses," he told her and she followed him from the room.

XxXxX

_She had been in her room, braiding her hair for bed, already dressed in her nightgown, when the loud slam of the front gates had echoed through the entire building. Quickly tying off her braid with a bright red ribbon she darted out into the hall. "What-?" she began, but her brother Jonathan pushed her aside, still tying his breeches on. A sword was on his belt and his chain mail vest was thrown haphazardly over a sleep shirt. _

_"Bandits. Ge' dressed an' 'urry t' de courtyard!" he shouted over her shoulder. Stripping of her dress before she was even fully in her room she yanked on her own brown breeches, shoved on her boots without socks and tucked in her tunic. Tying her shoes with shaking hands, she had to pause and take a deep breath before her finger could manage the laces. Snatching the axe by her bed post she fled the room. All around her servants and family a like charged from their chambers, half dressed and frantic. They sprinted down the stairs and poured into the courtyard. _

_They gathered in a frightened, yet determined crowd. There were three dozen fighters and everyone was there. Her mom, seven months pregnant, had a bow across her shoulder and her three year old brother was clinging to her dress. They were settling them selves up on the wall to protect the fief if the bandits got past the town. Rynn's dad was in his chain mail (as they had sold the armor two years ago during the drought) clutching the hilt of his sword a top the old war horse Champion. The other horses were stamping their feet restlessly. There were a dozen of them and they were work horses, used to field work not battle. Rynn shook herself from her negative thoughts and raised her chin. She wouldn't be afraid. The bandits were hurting her friends and she had to be strong. She had to protect them._

_Her father raised his voice and they all were quiet. "The bandits are in the town. We must go down there and try to fend them off. Though we are small in number, we're all we have, and the Gods are on our side!" he added, his deep voice stirring hope within them. "Follow me!" and they left. It was not dramatic. They didn't even gallop, because in reality it was more important to have energy to fight. Plus, they had many elderly people amongst them. Just between the tall form of Andrew and the wide shoulders of the Cook, Rynn could see her Grandma with a quiver of arrows on her shoulder, holding hands tightly with her husband. The group wasn't an army, Rynn knew that, but they were lovers and family and friends and together they would have the determination to win the fight! She couldn't allow herself to believe anything else._

_When they turned the familiar bend in the road, fire met their eyes. Already the fields were burning and the stable was alight with crackling heat. Rynn's stomach clenched as she observed the chaotic mass of people fighting. Children and parents and friends that she had grown up with were already fighting for their lives. Holding whatever they had around - shovels, pokers, axes and harvesting knives - they battled like animals, pure instinct and no training. Blood already splattered the ground like red berries scattered messily by disobedient kids. It was funny. It had to be funny, or else it'd be real. Her father raised his sword and his furious roar rattled in her bones like she was a bell just recently rung. It shook her back to the present and in replace of the shock and animalistic rage filled her chest. Battle-eyed she joined the fray._

_A huge man with yellow teeth and black eyes swung a club at a pretty maiden as Rynn charged in. Lisa was trying to fight him with a kitchen knife and Rynn was too far off. Horrified, Rynn watched as the club swung forward, a horrible snarl twisting the mans face into a hideous mask of rage. 'No!' Rynn was screaming, but her body didn't work right. 'Move!' she was begging, but the girl couldn't hear her. The meat knife lodged itself in the thick wood of the club with a dull thunk. 'Run!' she was screaming at the girl. But the club just kept moving down and Lisa, her blue eyes wide in panic, was too slow. Her mouth opened in a scream and Rynn screamed with her. The club, knife and all, smashed into her face with a _crunch_! Blood flew from her head as her skull literally cracked open. Lisa crumpled to the ground, a wound deep enough to fit a hand into running from her temple to the base of her long blonde hair. _

_And the dream froze there, forbidding Rynn to turn and push it from her mind as she faced her enemy. No, it kept her eyes trained on the blood pumping from the wound and streaking her curls red. Lisa had once wanted to be a redhead. It was so sickening. Brains were visible, like a squished bug. Her blue eyes no longer saw anything, already glassy with death. Her chest had taken its last shuddering breath seconds before. Rynn was screaming. It was so surreal. It was so horrible. She couldn't feel anything as time stopped and froze her once more in the moment. Dust of the battle covered her beautiful form, forgotten in the struggle to live, to protect. When the dirt was kicked over her head it turned to a red, pasty sort of mud. It was all over her hair, face, and neck, and the ground around her head. Rynn just couldn't stop sobbing she was shaking and writhing as the dream slipped away, leaving her inching back to wakefulness._

She found herself as she usually did. Sweaty and tear stained, the pillow shoved against the headboard, the sheets kicked to the ground, clutching the bed for dear life as her body shook with sobs silenced by her necklace.

Praying the dream wouldn't return she replaced the pillow and remade the bed. Lighting a stubby candle, as the first one had died long ago, Rynn stared at the flickering light on the wall until she drifted back off to sleep.


	3. Chapter Three

Special thanks to **Harry Potter 101** for pointing out that I had updated this still calling her Emma! Now it's fixed, but please tell me if I make that mistake again! I'm trying really hard folks!

_She had been in her room, braiding her hair for bed, already dressed in her nightgown, when the loud slam of the front gates had echoed through the entire building. Quickly tying off her braid with a bright red ribbon she darted out into the hall. "What-?" she began, but her brother Jonathan pushed her aside, still tying his breeches on. A sword was on his belt and his chain mail vest was thrown haphazardly over a sleep shirt. _

_"Bandits. Ge' dressed an' 'urry t' de courtyard!" he shouted over her shoulder. Stripping of her dress before she was even fully in her room she yanked on her own brown breeches, shoved on her boots without socks and tucked in her tunic. Tying her shoes with shaking hands, she had to pause and take a deep breath before her finger could manage the laces. Snatching the axe by her bed post she fled the room. All around her servants and family a like charged from their chambers, half dressed and frantic. They sprinted down the stairs and poured into the courtyard. _

_They gathered in a frightened, yet determined crowd. There were three dozen fighters and everyone was there. Her mom, seven months pregnant, had a bow across her shoulder and her three year old brother was clinging to her dress. They were settling them selves up on the wall to protect the fief if the bandits got past the town. Rynn's dad was in his chain mail (as they had sold the armor two years ago during the drought) clutching the hilt of his sword a top the old war horse Champion. The other horses were stamping their feet restlessly. There were a dozen of them and they were work horses, used to field work not battle. Rynn shook herself from her negative thoughts and raised her chin. She wouldn't be afraid. The bandits were hurting her friends and she had to be strong. She had to protect them._

_Her father raised his voice and they all were quiet. "The bandits are in the town. We must go down there and try to fend them off. Though we are small in number, we're all we have, and the Gods are on our side!" he added, his deep voice stirring hope within them. "Follow me!" and they left. It was not dramatic. They didn't even gallop, because in reality it was more important to have energy to fight. Plus, they had many elderly people amongst them. Just between the tall form of Andrew and the wide shoulders of the Cook, Rynn could see her Grandma with a quiver of arrows on her shoulder, holding hands tightly with her husband. The group wasn't an army, Rynn knew that, but they were lovers and family and friends and together they would have the determination to win the fight! She couldn't allow herself to believe anything else._

_When they turned the familiar bend in the road, fire met their eyes. Already the fields were burning and the stable was alight with crackling heat. Rynn's stomach clenched as she observed the chaotic mass of people fighting. Children and parents and friends that she had grown up with were already fighting for their lives. Holding whatever they had around - shovels, pokers, axes and harvesting knives - they battled like animals, pure instinct and no training. Blood already splattered the ground like red berries scattered messily by disobedient kids. It was funny. It had to be funny, or else it'd be real. Her father raised his sword and his furious roar rattled in her bones like she was a bell just recently rung. It shook her back to the present and in replace of the shock and animalistic rage filled her chest. Battle-eyed she joined the fray._

_A huge man with yellow teeth and black eyes swung a club at a pretty maiden as Rynn charged in. Lisa was trying to fight him with a kitchen knife and Rynn was too far off. Horrified, Rynn watched as the club swung forward, a horrible snarl twisting the man's face into a hideous mask of rage. 'No!' Rynn was screaming, but her body didn't work right. 'Move!' she was begging, but the girl couldn't hear her. The meat knife lodged itself in the thick wood of the club with a dull thunk. 'Run!' she was screaming at the girl. But the club just kept moving down and Lisa, her blue eyes wide in panic, was too slow. Her mouth opened in a scream and Rynn screamed with her. The club, knife and all, smashed into her face with a _crunch_! Blood flew from her head as her skull literally cracked open. Lisa crumpled to the ground, a wound deep enough to fit a hand into running from her temple to the base of her long blonde hair. _

_And the dream froze there, forbidding Rynn to turn and push it from her mind as she faced her enemy. No, it kept her eyes trained on the blood pumping from the wound and streaking her curls red. Lisa had once wanted to be a redhead. It was so sickening. Brains were visible, like a squished bug. Her blue eyes no longer saw anything, already glassy with death. Her chest had taken its last shuddering breath seconds before. Rynn was screaming. It was so surreal. It was so horrible. She couldn't feel anything as time stopped and froze her once more in the moment. Dust of the battle covered her beautiful form, forgotten in the struggle to live, to protect. When the dirt was kicked over her head it turned to a red, pasty sort of mud. It was all over her hair, face, and neck, and the ground around her head. Rynn just couldn't stop sobbing she was shaking and writhing as the dream slipped away, leaving her inching back to wakefulness._

She found herself as she usually did. Sweaty and tear stained, the pillow shoved against the headboard, the sheets kicked to the ground, clutching the bed for dear life as her body shook with sobs silenced by her necklace.

Praying the dream wouldn't return she replaced the pillow and remade the bed. Lighting a stubby candle, as the first one had died long ago, Rynn stared at the flickering light on the wall until she drifted back off to sleep.

XxXxX

Three days into her stay in the rooms next to Raoul Rynn awoke to a sharp knock on her door. Wrapping a blanket around her she ran to the door. Outside stood a man already dressed in uniform and she shuddered. "Where?" she asked, knowing that they were needed, that again something horrible had happened and she was being called into the fray. She just prayed it wasn't bandits. The man blinked at her in surprise. Frankly, he had figured that the new squire would answer bleary eyed and confused. But, Lawrence was always quick at recovering from things and answered without a pause.

"Just below Trebond. Meet in the courtyard in fifteen minutes. Be sure to grab breakfast." She nodded and shut the door as he left. Throwing on her clothes and light chain mail she belted on her dagger. Again her fingers shook as she tied her shoes, but not so badly. Donning her cloak and grabbing her bag she shouldered her axe and hurried to the Mess to fix herself two sandwiches, unsure of when they'd stop to eat.

Standing in the courtyard she was thankful of how much different the experience was. For one thing it was organized. Men stood beside their horses as Lawrence checked their things. It was also relaxed. These men were used to being called into dangerous situations. There was no terror in the air. Even the horses stood at ease. But Rynn was trembling. Biting her lip she stroked the neck of her new horse, Clover, and tried to calm her breathing. The man beside her seemed to notice her fear, but kindly didn't say so directly.

"There was a lot of rain near Trebond," he explained, watching as she began to relax at the news. "And, being built on top of weak, over used farm soil and on a hill, well the entire village has begun to slide! We're off to help with the damage and begin rebuilding somewhere safer." By the end of his explanation she no longer felt like hyperventilating. No Lisa; no bandits. But her fingers still shook on the reigns at the frightening thought, _'It could have been_.'Quietly she mounted on command. "I'm Sergeant David," he introduced himself. "But you're not technically in the Own so call me David."

"I'm Rynn."

XxXxX

The Kings Own were a good lot, Rynn was relived to notice. They marched with relaxed confidence and good natured jokes. No one complained when they kept going through lunch and dinner. Rynn was thankful she had brought the sandwich. Around her, others seemed to have done the same. Still, her stomach was growling by the time the night began to fall. They pulled off the road then when it was too dark to see well. Dismounting, Rynn moved to take Raoul's horse for a grooming and watering, as was her duty as a squire.

"You were pretty nervous this morning, squire" Raoul commented lightly. "What was up?"

Though he was stroking his horse's mane absently, Raoul still noticed how her whole body stiffened at the subject. Playing with the reins she took a moment to reply. "I didn't know we were helping with a landslide," she finally admitted and Raoul rolled his eyes at the evasive answer. That much had been obvious.

"What'd you think it was?" he asked, hoping for a more specific answer. He didn't know all that much about his squire, but at every turn she seemed more complex than Kel had even been. Rynn didn't seem _normal_.

"I don't know," she snapped. "It was stupid of me, okay?!" A few heads turned at the raised voice and Raoul lifted an eyebrow, displeased with the outburst. Rynn seemed to shrink into herself with embarrassment.

"I wasn't saying it was stupid. I'm sure you have your reasons. I was just asking, that's all," Raoul replied in a calm manner that made Rynn curse herself for getting so worked up.

"Of course," she whispered. "I'm sorry to have snapped at you, sir. I was out of line." He nodded and the subject dropped, for a while at least.

XxXxX

_Rynn was back in the battle, trying to fend off a lanky bandit whose speed with the cutlass was astounding. Every time she moved to attack, the short sword was there to block it, and every time it struck forward to kill her, she was hard pressed to stop it. Backing up slowly Rynn felt the heat of the stable behind her. It was on fire, the horses hopefully long fled. Sweat was pouring down her back as the flames crackled louder and louder. Smoke stung her eyes and nose as she caught it's terrifying reflection flickering eerily in the bandits blue eyes._

_Feeling the desperate instinct to survive, her attacks became wild and strong. Rynn's axe smashed down with a heavy, thudding ring upon the sword. She swung it over her head, tried to hook it on his leg, and with a quick jab fake at his chest she went for his sword arm. Each attack of hers was blocked, but so were his. And, she noticed with relief, his lanky arms had begun to shake with effort as he blocked her harsh blows._

_The bandit's mouth was open as he panted and growled. Slamming the axe down once more she was just a hair too slow. His counter attack sliced into her hip. It wasn't like the stories said. She felt it alright. The pain burned into her and it hurt to move her leg. But she had to. She couldn't fall down or weaken now. He was going to die. With a quick one handed fake with the axe, Rynn jammed her dagger into his right shoulder. The cutlass slipped in his fingers for just the slightest of moments, and her axe, double handed once more, slammed into his neck with a crunching thud. Wide eyed with horror, the blue eyes of the bandit froze as she chopped off his head._

_Blood spurted from the wound and the body toppled forward. Almost like a death hug, the corpse collapsed hitting her in the stomach. Her shirt was quickly soaked with his blood even as she darted away. But she didn't throw up. Rynn didn't even pause, but looked instead to her left where Alex was struggling with two bandits at once. Behind her the body slowly pumped it's last beats as the heart muscle spasmed on its own and a mother lost a son in the most brutal of ways. Bandit though he was, the look of terror in his pale eyes haunted her. Her arms reverberated with the feeling of her axe chopping flesh, breaking bone. She was whimpering, twisting and turning franticly. There was blood everywhere. All over her. Her hands wiped at her shirt, franticly trying to remove the blossoming stain, but it ran down her stomach and coated her hands. She wiped it on the grass, but it wouldn't come off. The blood was on her hands and it was staining the skin and it wouldn't leave! Tossing and turning she was whimpering, "No, no! I didn' mean t'! Stop! Go 'way!" _

_But the guilt was suffocating her; she was trapped and couldn't escape. _Thrashing wildly Rynn finally bolted awake. Her panting breaths were silenced by the stone as she struggled to free herself from the bed roll that was twisted captive-like around her legs. Finally free she tried to sit quietly, fearing to wake any of the men, but her whole body shook with emotion. She held her hands before her. In the dark it was hard to tell, but she could swear she saw blood. Wiping her hands on her pants she looked at her shirt. The shadows tormented her. She could almost make out the stain. "But, it's new," she said silently. Putting her hands to her face she tried to prove it wasn't there. She could feel no blood. It was only sweat - wasn't it?

To her left, woken by her thrashing, David watched as the new girl shook and wiped her hands and stared at them in utter silence. It was a long time he watched her, but by the time he drifted off, she wasn't yet returned to her bedroll.

She must've gone to sleep however, because the morning had found her as if nothing was wrong. The group had mounted once more and arrived at the village by noon. Rynn's mouth fell open at the sight. A river of mud had pushed it's way through the village, shoving aside houses regardless of owner or age, and mashed them against their neighbors. The men around her however, seemed unmoved. Rynn shuddered at the lack of emotion. Such destruction… would she too become calloused and coldly focused? What type of woman would she be if it didn't make her hurt too see other people in pain?

They rode right up to the edge of the town, where the land was squishy and trampled, and a man, hunched backed and balding with a thick beard down to his navel came forward with a cane. "My Lord!" he called in a voice that creaked. "Thank you for coming!" Raoul dismounted and they exchanged greetings that, honestly, Rynn quickly tuned out. Instead, she stared at the town.

A little girl walked from behind a house to her mother across the road. She held a little doll, clutched protectively with both hands. Her legs were muddy and she held her dress above her knees like a prostitute, not because she was immodest, but because other wise she couldn't have walked. The mud she crossed sucked off her shoes and sunk her up to mid calf. Slinging an arm around her shoulders, the mother led her daughter out of sight.

Further away Rynn could see men and women walking slowly in an out of a temple. A few boys carried water or wood. A woman ran out crying, shortly followed by a man running in after a child. It seemed to be the center of the town life. It was probably a make-shift shelter. In Southridge they had done that too; they used the dining room of the fief as an infirmary. It was the safest area, being stone protected it from the fire and it had food stored nearby. It was a rather far walk for the injured, but there had been so many flies and such a stench in the town…

Rynn forced her mind into the conversation before her. "-three days ago. We've been having lots of rain all year. I guess the soil just gave out in this last storm," the old man said with an overwhelmed sort of shrug.

It appeared there was little to say but the obvious facts, so the man left, leaving Raoul to take control with a calm voice and straightforward orders. It was nice for everything to be so disciplined, Rynn noted. Chaos just reminded her of the battle.

XxXxX

Rynn was barefooted, her breeches rolled up to her knees, wadding in still water. In her hand, she carried a handful of rice shoots to plant. A whole squad of men were out in the large pond showing the villagers a new plant to farm. After all, the wheat they had traditionally used was molding in the rainy fields. The friendly banter of military friends passed over Rynn's head as it had through all her page years. Beside her, David shot her a glance as she shook her head for the third time in five minutes.

Rynn couldn't stand the monotonous work. Her mind, as it was rather suicidal sometimes, was turning too quickly to negative things while her hands worked independently. Glaring at the ricelings she tried to review all the hand signals she needed to learn, but she was hardly past 'stop' when a shout caught her attention.

At the edge of the pond Edward was motioning them over. The men of the Kings Own quickly sloshed over, the ankle-high water spraying up round their big feet. "Bandits are approaching Pendor," Edward hollered once they were close enough. The men around her were suddenly serious. "We're moving out in twenty minutes."

Rynn was terrified. But above her nerves, she knew she had a duty. Running beside the men, she hurried to the campsite to take down her tent. Her bags were packed, as all traveling soldiers kept them. Wiping her muddy feet she found her fingers trembled and she couldn't tie the strings. "Stop that," she told them, talking aloud to help keep her mind in the present. "That's silly of you, Rynn. There's no guarantee it'll be anything like that. Like Lisa - NO!" she reprimanded herself forcefully. "You're much better now. You even have a real battle axe and a huge force of men with you, all trained and equipped. Even horses. There's nothing to worry about. They can handle it. It'll be just fine," she whispered as she saddled up Clover. The men around her ignored her. She kept talking to herself until Raoul came over.

"You alright there, Rynn?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she said a bit too quickly. "Well, I'm' a bit nervous, but it'll be fine, I'm sure." He just nodded and signaled them out.

I think this one's shorter… I never know where to stop. (But I've been getting the strangest requests to shorten them!) Please tell me what you think though – you've all been so helpful with finding my big little big mistakes! I hope I've managed to fix them all so far!


	4. Chapter Four

Special thanks to **Lady Mystiquea** for telling me that, once again, I'd started calling her Emma. Really, I _am_ trying!

I think it's fixed now, but I've been wrong before…

They arrived quickly, it was only an hour's ride, and the fight had just begun. As they approached, Rynn realized she no longer felt fear. Staring down the slight hill at the smoking buildings and chaotic scrimmage, so similar to the battle in her nightmares, she felt detached. A cold rage was welling in her stomach and gripping her heart. She wanted to kill those bandits for everything they had done and all the lives they ruined. She wanted to destroy them. Beside her Raoul raised his hand, and they were off.

They must've been quite the sight to the bandits, trained soldiers riding in to exterminate them. Yells came in relief and in fear as they stormed in. A few bandits turned to run, but Rynn just shot them a manic grin, because the other half of the force was charging in from behind.

A tall bandit with scared hands and sleeves bloodied with villagers blood raised a sword to her, and she attacked without mercy. Her axe slammed down with enough force to chip his sword. Snarling, he went for her horse, but she got him first. Deflecting the sword she followed up with a chop to rip open his throat. He fell with a gurgling scream and she turned away.

There were far more bandits than one would expect, she would later reflect. But her thoughts were completely tunnel visioned. Hacking and chopping she wielded the axe with a vengeance for her family and her friends. The bandit's faces merged into those of their SouthRidge counter parts. Green eyes easily looked blue, missing teeth and bulbous nose blurred all too quickly into a snarling, flat nosed beast. Beside the soldiers she fought without restraint. While the men of the Own often fought to maim, Rynn fought to kill. The bandits were to die, by the noose or by her axe, and she didn't let them wait. Heads rolled as her favorite shot became apparent.

A horse-riding bandit came at her from the side. With a shield and broad sword he, perhaps, thought himself invincible. He was indeed one of the best fighters of the lot. He laughed cruelly as his blade sliced into her shoulder. She screamed at him. Gripping the axe with two hands she slammed it savagely into the shield, splitting it like firewood, and taking the bandits arm with it. The one armed bandit slumped in his seat, and she beheaded him without a second thought.

It was then that the battle began to slow down. With their leaders dead, Raoul himself having taken out the Headman, many bandits surrendered. Rynn beheaded one more before Raoul called them back. The remaining bandits had surrendered. Rynn glared as they were bound and jailed by a few soldiers. How dare they. How dare they think that they – worthless murdering monsters! - deserved to live for one more moment! Swinging out of the saddle as Raoul walked over, Rynn realized too late it wasn't a good idea. Leaning against Clover she clutched her shoulder as the world spun and her vision was covered in stars.

"You need to see the healers," came Raoul's voice. She took a deep breath as her vision cleared again. He put an arm around her shoulders to steady her. Even with his help, her vision swam with every inch-like step.

"Damn bandits," she cursed, loose tongued by the pain. "Damn, life-stealing murderous bandits! Cowards, surrendering like that," she ranted to the quite Lord. The world kept spinning, but Raoul's arm was firm. "Kill the lot of them, I say. Kill them, they don't deserve to breathe!" There was something wet on her face, but she wasn't sure if it was tears, sweat or blood.

"Isn't that a bit harsh," said Raoul fairly. Fair trial and justice were, after all, in the Code of Honor.

"No, kill 'em for Lisa and Alex and Susie, Ma, Dad, Jonathan," she listed off as she staggered blindly up the hill. "The baby, Lucas, Aubrey, Sam, Lucifer, Andrew, Harper," Rynn continued in a voice choked by either sadness or anger. "Henry, Max, and Francine, Nathan, Kevin," Raoul listened in horror as she kept talking. What sort of a list was that? A list of family, people she felt she had to protect? He hoped so, but it sounded horribly like a list of the dead. "Westly, Hannah, Isaac, Toby, and Brennet," she finished. Blood had stained her clothes all the way from her shoulder down to her boot and she leaned into him completely. The wound looked to be really deep. As she began to fall once again, he knew time was becoming important. Picking her up suddenly, she finally fainted, as he had expected her too, and he strode quickly the last few yards into the healer's tent.

Men were sitting all around in various stages of healing. Truthfully, there weren't that many of them. George had a bandage around his stomach and was lying in a cot in the corner and Bart had a few stitches in a hit above his eye, but there was only a dozen other men in the room. They quickly freed a bed for his blood-drenched squire. The healer left off finishing up a broken bone, darting over to see how bad it was.

"Blood loss," he muttered with a curse. With a banana-yellow Gift he slowed the bleeding and took a better look. "But, she'll be fine, just a bleeder." Raoul nodded, and turned to examine his other men.

XxXxX

_Heavy smoke covered the battling road. The fire in the stable was roaring, sending sweltering heat waves over the crowd and turning the mild, almost rainy weather into something much nearer a blistering summer day in a desert. Around her dead bodies were already tripping the fighters on both sides. Blood stained the dusty ground, turning the dirt into red-tinted mud beneath their trampling feet. Rynn was fending off a huge man beside Westly when she heard it._

_Above the roar of the battle, a horrible scream sliced through the air, a torturous cry of agony. There was one familiar cry of "HELP!" mixed within the noise, but Rynn didn't need any more. _

_"It's Ol' Lucas, Wes!" she cried as she blocked a swing for her stomach. Wes took the next attack for her, but by the time the man lay dead, another fire towered above them. The inn was in flames, billowing smoke now filled the street and both sides were running for clean air towards the fief for clean air. Rynn stared. "No." But an arm grabbed her as she tried to run back._

_"Come on!" yelled Westly. He was choking and so was she, on the harsh ash. He didn't need to say more, his face finished it for him. Lucas was dead. _

_'No!" she screamed, but he drug her away. A bandit forced her to refocus, but the dream didn't care. It wouldn't let her mind flee into the peace of pure, instinctual fighting. No, it fast-forwarded to the end, to her return to the bloodstained streets and charcoal-house town. She stepped through the debris, finding her way by steps, not familiar sights, to the inn. It was a shell with only a few blackened logs stuck up on the right side and a bit of the back. The fireplace stood alone by where the bar counter should have been. And there, showing beneath chunks of ceiling, a skeleton lay in a distorted heap of blackened bones. No._

_"No, no." she was muttering, unable to tear her eyes away. "No." Her hands were shaking uncontrollable. Her hair was hanging loose around her face as she fell to her knees, not caring as they burned on the ashes that were still hot. "No!" she screamed, clutching at her face as she sobbed. "LUCAS! LUCAS! NO!" she screamed, anguished and broken as she stared at what remained of the man who had taught her to use and axe and how to play cards. The kind man who always had time to talk and liked to take her on his knee to tell her old stories and funny tales. A pile of bones, burned alive. There was blood on her hands again. It was her fault. She should've rescued him. She had heard him. She - something was shaking her shoulders. Hands were grabbing her, and she jolted awake._

Rynn jerked away as her eyes flew open. Smoke was in the air and Raoul and a healer were standing over her. What - ? she reached for her stone but it wasn't there. She had screamed aloud for the first time in four years. But her thoughts were flickering between the dream and reality. Her hands… She held them in front of her, wiping them furiously on the bed sheets. The blood was there! She could feel it! Her breath was hitching in her throat. "No, no," she said desperately. "No!" but her hands were suddenly held by Raoul.

"Calm down, Rynn," he commanded. "It's alright. You're alright. Deep breaths. That's it," he told her. He had never seen anyone react so badly to a common skirmish. Rynn forced herself to obey, taking deep shuddering breaths, but her hands still twisted in his huge bear like palm. "Now, what is wrong?"

"Blood," she told him, her eyes still wide and distant, obvious very much in her dream world. "'S all o'er me. On m' 'ands. On m' shirt. It won' come off." Her breath hitched and she tried to pull away.

"Your hands are clean," he spoke with reason.

"No, I can feel it. 'S al'ays dere. Never goes 'way," her irrational voice was panicked, the eye of every man in the room was on her.

"Always?" he asked suddenly as her words tilted his view of the situation. What was she freaking out about if it wasn't the fight? Frankly, he had been shocked at her reaction. Rynn had fought very well. He'd even been a bit put off by her willingness to kill.

"Always." she repeated, her eyes glazed.

"When did they get dirty?" he asked, playing along in a hope for answers. It seemed she was becoming more lucid though. Her eyes had stopped flitting around at least and her breathing, though fast, wasn't as hitched.

"At SouthRidge."

By this point Raoul was really hoping Rynn wasn't turning out insane. That would hardly go over well. She took a deep breath.

"I am so sorry," she said, as her mind seemed to become completely focused. "I-I didn't mean to freak out. It's just a night mare, sir!" Rynn was suddenly realizing just how big a scene she had made. She was in a healer's tent, it appeared, and a good dozen men were all staring at her. Raoul noticed her gaze and held her hands firmly.

"Rynn, I need you to explain now. And I want the full answer," he told her forcefully. "What was the nightmare about?"

"And I was d-dreaming about the battle at SouthRidge." Her voice was once more the polished talk of a noble. He wondered absently why she'd grown up speaking such rough common.

"The one you helped the injured with?"

"Helped the injured?" she asked, truly confused.

"The blood on your old clothes," he prompted.

"Oh, that wasn't from the injured," she muttered. It was so embarrassing. No real warriors had night terrors about old battles! Looking down she studied the bed linen. "At least, not the injured you're thinking about. That was from battle." He raised an eyebrow, wondering how lucid she really was. "I fought," she explained slowly.

"How old were you? Ten?"

"Yeah. Almost eleven then, sir," she continued to explain in a very quiet voice. "_Everyone_ fought. I come from _SouthRidge, a_ fief so small most nobles don't even know about it. My mom, seven months pregnant, fought with my three year old brother hanging onto her apron. Grandma fought and so did grandpa even though he walks with a cane. The villagers fought, girls and children, with whatever they had." He still looked doubtful so she tried another angle.

"Did you ever wonder why I, a _girl, _fight with an axe, the weapon most men say is too awkward or heavy?" she didn't wait for an answer, but looked him in the eye. "It's because that's what we _had_. I had a wood axe, so that's what I learned with. I fought and killed. That's why I have nightmares. I was ten and beheading bandits. My n-nightmare was about Lucas. He was burned alive eight yards away from me, calling for help. Of course there's blood on my hands sir. I've dealt with that."

"Really? Because you seem so over it to me," came a sarcastic voice from a man blocked from view by Raoul's large form.

"Look," she snapped, embarrassment shortening her patience. "I don't complain to you folk about it!" The man had the audacity to laugh at her.

"That's not 'over it'," he chuckled belittlingly. "That's ignoring it. Totally different."

"Then what is over it?"

"Not having nightmares or flash backs." It was David. The whole room seemed to agree against her. She shrank back against the headboard. "You shake like a leaf every time we head out. Why?"

"I donno," she tried to evade the question. "Just reminds me of our messenger."

"There, exactly. That's not over it at all!"

"But, what can I do about it?" she asked, suddenly feeling like a very small child.

"A lot of things. But realize, being over it is when it doesn't bleed anymore. Same as a physical wound, scars hurt sometimes, but they don't reopen."

I think this one's shorter, so I'll update sooner, I think… Anyways, tell me about problems or any other comments. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter Five

The song here is from (with a few word changes) Rise Against's "Hero of War". I advise you to you-tube it. It's a powerful song.

They headed back to Corus the next day for required midsummer dancing. Riding atop Clover Rynn hummed to herself. Tapping her fingers over the saddle horn.

_A hero of war_

_Yeah that's what I'll be_

_And when I come home_

_They'll be damn proud of me_

_I'll carry this flag_

_To the grave if I must_

_Because it's a flag that I love_

_And a flag that I trust_

She'd heard the song in an inn while walking to Corus. Stopping there to see a healer for a painful infection in her foot, she worked at the inn for a week to pay the man back. There a young man spent his nights singing for some money. She still remembered her initial anger at hearing the song. The SouthRidge battle was still fresh in her mind and she had scowled at the naive view. Hero of War, how stupid. Hero or murderer, it just depended on what side you were on. War was not beautiful or heroic as his previous two verses had depicted. She knew that all too well. But the boy had continued.

_I charged into town_

_I followed commands_

_The children, they cried_

_But I got my man_

_I killed him my way,_

_Heads rolled, hearts stopped,_

_In front of his wife and his kids_

Rynn smiled bitterly at the harsh lyrics. She remembered how she gasped and dropped the rag she'd been wiping tables with right onto her own feet. The children, yes. What about them, and the mothers of the men she killed? Her own grandmother still grieved over the loss of her son and daughter in law.

The song had nine more verses of the realities of war, but that one stuck with her. Heads rolled, hearts stopped. It hit so close to home. She nodded her head as she hummed out the closing chorus.

_A hero of war_

_Is that what they see_

_Just medals and scars_

_So damn proud of me_

_And I brought home that flag_

_Now it gathers dust_

_But it's a flag that I love_

_It's the only flag I trust_

It was just what they had said after the battle at SouthRidge: that she was _right_ to kill those men; that she was a hero for causing their deaths. She knew it was unavoidable. They were going to kill her if she didn't take them out first. Rynn _did_ hate the bandits: she _wanted_ them to die. But, at the same time, she didn't want them to be dead. Because as much as she could believe they deserved nothing but a horrible death, the next moment she was sick over their families. There was so much more to the fight than just good and evil, right and wrong. And while she would fight to the death for her home and her country, she knew the price.

Humming it again she wondered it Raoul had ever heard the song. It was certainly not the type to be sung at the palace. But, it seemed like one any soldier should relate to. Or perhaps just emotionally unbalanced teenaged girl warriors struggling to figure out what was right and wrong with the blood of many men already on their hands. Rolling her eyes at her own thoughts she was stopped mid hum by Raoul's voice, "So you've been to Ragnoff and visited their inn." He smiled at her surprised look.

"The boy has quite a style, I'd pick out his tunes anywhere. We camped there about six years ago, when did you drop by?"

"O-on my way to Corus, sir."

"A bit out of the way, isn't it?"

"Yes, I guess it is, sir," she said formally as she did when she got tense. Raoul wondered if anything about her past didn't make her tense. "But I got lost somewhere after Preffer's forest and ended up taking a loop around Mindelan by mistake. I worked at the inn for a while to pay off a debt."

"To whom?" he inquired. His squire was so secretive. Honestly, sometimes Raoul could swear she had more hidden in her than an ocean.

"Oh, the Healer man. I got in a mistake with a farmers trap," she admitted with a blush. "I was wandering around looking for something to eat and missed it completely."

Raoul sighed. "And you'd run out of food supplies because?"

"I ran out the second day sir," she said with rolled eyes. "Honesty, how much do you expect me to carry around? I had to walk to Corus for Pete's sake!"

"You _walked _the whole way?!" he asked, just as disbelieving as Lord Wyldon. It was a months journey on horse, after all. Not a road to walk lightly.

"Um, yeah. We didn't hardly have any horses what with 'em getting hurt in the skirmish and we had to try and replant really quick so they were all in the fields. Any ways, I bandaged it up a bit, but I didn't really know what I was doing. I just had one extra shirt to rip up – it's hardly right for a girl to go topless - so the bandages got real dirty and it must've gotten really infected because all I remember is bits and pieces of finding the village. Had a real fever, the Healer told me. Cost me quite the pretty copper. But the inn paid well if I worked hard."

"Surely your companion must've known something of healing." Raoul stated, slightly fearing her explanation. If she told him her companion was a blind man…

"I was on my own," was her short answer. The eyes of the near by men, who had been listening interestedly to the usually silent girl, all stared.

"You don't expect us to believe that," said Harrison, looking fed up with her tale. "You were ten. Who lets a ten year old walk to Corus on their own?"

"My people did," she glared at him. "How else was I supposed to become a knight if I never got to Corus? They had to build, because frankly, it's hard to survive winter sitting on burnt-down homes." Harrison rolled his eye.

"Oh pity you," he sneered. "That's such a lie. I bet you had a five horses a nurse and three guards when you came. It's ridiculous people let you think we believe you."

Rynn stared long and hard at him. He met her eyes, a taunting sneer on his lips. In a quiet voice she replied. "You saw the burning village of Pendor, you fought the bandits yourself. Did you not see the villagers fighting amongst us or the fallen building we left behind us? Simply because we have left for a dance that people of such wealth can enjoy does not mean they don't have broken lives to put back together. Fighting there you lost strangers. They, however, lost lovers, family and friends. Those things that were such an inconvenience to you as you fought, were their homes, food, clothes, heirlooms, and money burning to the ground. They are in debt, their crops destroyed, their tradable animals lost, and their people are grieving. It is not easy to fix that. It takes a lot of time, and my fief is still recovering. I'm sorry that a mere month wasn't enough for my fief recover and send me to Corus in style." Rynn's voice was a scathing sneer by the time she finished. Harrison didn't respond and Rynn let the matter drop.

Facing forward again she resumed tapping the song out sharply on the saddle horn. 'A hero of war…' Beside her, Raoul allowed himself the smallest of grins.

XxXxX

That night they camped beneath the stars in their bedrolls like the first night she'd marched with them. Lying near David she slipped on her necklace before she lay on her bedroll. She really didn't want to stuff herself into the restricting space if she could avoid it. David looked at her as if he knew that decision had more reason to it than 'it's rather warm,' but he didn't say anything. He just crawled into his blankets and closed his eyes. Feeling slightly awkward lying with nothing over her, but not wanting to lie on the bare ground or worse, inside the roll itself, Rynn just closed her eyes and waited to fall asleep.

The camp was silent and dawn was still far in coming when the nightmare began to play. _They had fled from the burning village, the bandits right behind them, and retreated to the fief, but it was unprepared for an attack. The surviving nobles and villagers huddled in the courtyard at the ready as they waited for the bandits to attack. It wasn't long._

_With a WHAM! the wooden gate was smashed open by a battle axe far sharper than her own. The bandits pressed forward with surprisingly large mass. Some two and a half dozen bandits swarmed through the gateway to face their evenly numbered counterparts. Wearily Rynn raised her axe, and felt the fury rise within her once again._

_No bandit came for her at first. It was not that simple. They went for the ones close by, like her brother. Jonathan turned to face the charging man, cutlass raised and roaring, only to find his enemy suddenly shot down by an arrow, glancing up he spared the quickest of smiles at his grandma who stood upon the wall carefully selecting her next target. But even the quickest of smiles was too long. Behind him a heavy set bandit slashed his own sword down at him. The blow, foreseen only by the yell the man unwittingly emitted, gouged into Johnathon's shoulder instead of his head. With a scream of pain he fell to a knee to parry, with his weak hand, the hammering blows of the man's sword. Blood was streaming down his arm, which was barely connected anymore. Rynn was running over, but it was too quick!_

_John blocked one more slice to his head, before he was caught in the stomach. He fell, yelling in pain and Rynn had reached the scene, once again too late. The bandit turned to her, knowing his opponent would be dead in minutes, and swung for her head. She locked blades and caught his brown eyes. Her own dark ones burned with hate. "Yer dead." she spat out even as he smirked and shoved forward, expecting to win in the battle of strength. And he would of, had she not thrown herself backwards and out of the way. Slamming her ax for his head she took the block and went for his legs before faking at his heart and clubbing it into his head. He fell and she sliced him open. "Fer John," she spat as he screamed._

_Only, she wasn't turning away from him this time. She was watching his disgusting death and a woman, not from the memory, threw herself down at his side sobbing and screaming, his blood on her dress. His wife gazed up at her with broken eyes "Ye took 'im from me!". Rynn knew what she meant, right down to every last emotion, because he had taken her brother from her. But the woman didn't care that she understood. It wasn't enough. It had never been enough for Rynn either. The woman could barely express her grief, it was far too big, so she just screamed out in anguish, but it echoed in Rynn's head, like the feel of the axe hitting flesh reverberated in her arms. _

_Rynn tried to back away, but her feet wouldn't move. The blood was all over her, on her hands and her axe and her shirt… _Jolting awake she found she had rolled off the bedroll and onto the bare earth sometime in the night. Panting in the grass she knew she would have a hard time going back to sleep. Drying the tears on her sleeve she rolled back onto her bedroll and gazed up at the stars. To her left David slowly fell back asleep while she struggled to count the stars. 1, 2, 3…

XxXxX

It was an excited company that dismounted in the castle courtyard four days later. Despite Lord Raoul's stubborn insistence to take as much time as possible, they arrived a good two days before the celebrations were to begin. "I expect you to practice," Raoul told Rynn unnecessarily. She had practiced faithfully every night on the return trip and as much as she could while fixing up the village by Trebond.

"Yes my lord," she said through a yawn. Raoul frowned. She'd been yawning all day, come to think of it, there were dark rings growing beneath her eyes.

"And get some rest, Rynn," he added as she took his horse. "You look like you need it." Indeed, Rynn hadn't slept well since the battle. Waking up after a few hours sleep she'd found her mind unable to relax again. Nodding she walked off, a little "yes, sir" floating over her shoulder. She hadn't been herself recently.

Once the horses were away, Rynn retired to her room to unpack her clothes. The bed looked soft, but the promise of memories was too uninviting. Grabbing her old wood axe she left the room. There was a certain connection she felt with the old weapon. While Raoul was right in doubting it'd hold up against an enemy blow, she was only going to go through some dances. Rynn had shared so much trouble with the blade… the bandits and the road struggles, it was comforting to feel the rough wood beneath her calloused hands. It was real; it was connected.

The practice courts were busy because nobles from all over had been drawn to the capital for the summer festivities. Taking an ignored corner space, Rynn warmed up slowly, her mind sleepy and her body sluggish. She felt cold.

There was no wind in the practice courts. Heat and sweat hung thick on the air. Swinging the axe around experimentally, she warmed her muscles to the familiar actions. A simple pattern dance seemed best, so slowly and with precise movements, she broke it down into pieces for review, slowly speeding up. Strike, block, fake, pull, slash, dodge, block, strike, block, strike, jab, smash, repeat, repeat, repeat. Over and over again she whirled through the familiar motions. It was so hot!

It felt like furnance. Sweat poured down her back as she pushed through two more dances. Her hair was plastered against her neck and across her face in an annoying fashion, but she didn't dare move it aside. Wait… her hair was short. It didn't move, yet she could feel it against her neck. Smoke was burning her eyes and choking her, catching in her lungs and stinging in her nostrils. But she was in the practice courts: there was no fire.

Rynn suddenly stopped mid dance. Slinging the axe on her shoulder she stumbled to the fence, coughing. But there was no fire… Her mind was blurring the scenes, flickering like an image through a bonfires heat. She could see the men practicing around her, but for just a second at a time she could glimpse the snarling faces of bandits. Regaining her breath she wiped her face. Yes, her hair was short, but the sensation on her neck stayed with her. The axe in her hands wanted to lash out, to protect, but she knew there was no opponent. A man stood beside her.

"You looked pretty good," he said, but she only half-heard him.

"Thank you, sir." Were his eyes brown or blue?

"-pull something?" he was asking her. "You stopped rather quick."

"N-no," she muttered. Why was his front tooth flickering in and out of existence? "I-I'm late," she excused herself lamely, leaving the man frowning after her as she walked away. Sticking to the edge of the court, trailing a hand on the fence she tried to ignore the way men kept appearing. She could feel a fire. _'HELP!'_ screamed a familiar voice, but when she jerked around, there was only a pair practicing shang moves - no burning building.

Inside the castle it was much quieter. The humid air still hung heavily, but it didn't smell of sweat, nor faintly of blood. Her hand holding the axe hand blood on it's knuckles, but she couldn't feel it. With her spare hand she examined her shirt; it was spotless. _'Bandits.' _shouted Johnathon's voice._ 'Get dressed and hurry to the courtyard!' _But when her head snapped up to look around franticly, her half dressed brother was nowhere in sight. Shaking her head in hopes of clearing it, Rynn hurried to her room, pushing open the door.

Inside was her old bed sticking out on the left. The patchwork quilt Mother had made her lay peacefully on top. But, over lapping it, laying against the same wall, was the simple brown cot of Raoul's squire's room. She leaned the axe against her dresser, on which a pretty ribbon and comb sat, only it didn't hold it. Rynn let out a gasp as the axe clattered to the floor.

Something was wrong; she knew that. Her mind wasn't right and that terrified her. Stumbling into a chair that she had thought was just in her mind, Rynn felt the first bed to see if it was real. But her hand passed through it. Even so, she didn't dare walk through it, so she carefully skirted around the large square to sit, hesitantly, on the very edge of the cot. What was going on? It kept flickering in and out of existence, but she could feel it solidly beneath her bum. She leaned back, slowly, slipping on her stone necklace out of habit. The bed didn't move so she closed her eyes, her head passing through the quilted bed. Finally, she fell asleep.

XxXxX

When Rynn awoke it was dark outside, and a loud snore could be heard from Lord Raoul's room next door. She slowly sat up. She hadn't had a nightmare for the first time in a week and she felt remarkably refreshed. Looking around she found the room to be normal. She shuddered at the thought of her hallucination. What if it had happened in battle? What had caused it? She couldn't help but wonder. Was she going insane? It frightened her, but she couldn't visit a healer - they would tell Raoul. It was their duty, and Lord Raoul wouldn't dare keep a squire who was insane. She was going crazy. Rynn knew it.

Reaching up to run a hand through her hair, she realized her hands were shaking and took a deep breath. While it was late at night, she was wide awake and rather hungry. Standing she found herself in the sweaty practice clothes from the day before. Grabbing a change she headed down to the baths.

The baths were empty, but the magically heated water was still warm. Stripping and leaving her clothes in a pile by a bench Rynn jumped into the pool. She loved warm baths, and in the Own it was once again a luxury, as it had been in her five month journey to Corus. Scrubbing with the soap she counted her scars. On her shoulder was the newest one, a circular stab that still ached a bit before she warmed up. On her hip was one from a bandit with blue eyes, on her temple was from robber who threw daggers, the claw-like marks on her right calf were from the farmers trap and a light one ran down her arm from the sword wielding bandit who killed her father. She scrubbed harder. Five of them, five deep cuts turned to puffy scars that lightened with time but never went away. She wondered if they'd disappear before or after the memories. She wondered what she would look like in a ball gown. She wondered lots of things aloud in the bathroom but she got no reply but the splash of warm water. Heaving herself from the deep tub she grabbed a towel and comb. She didn't even care if the nightmares never went away, just as long as she never hallucinated again. But, people rarely get what they want.

Thank you to all my reviewers. They are helpful and encouraging. I invite you to take a moment and send me your own comments.


	6. Chapter Six

The next morning Raoul found his squire's room empty. With a shrug he headed down to breakfast and hoped she had the sense to grab some before it was all gone. Glancing at the sun out the window, he spotted a small figure down in the practice courts and grinned. Trust Rynn to get up early for some peace and quiet, she never did like much of a crowd.

In the Mess hall Raoul was attacked by a redheaded dwarf. Laughing he patted the little woman on the back. "Nice to see you too, 'Lanna!" She jumped back and grinned up at him.

"Spent the last four weeks teaching villagers how to plant corn. Honestly, four weeks!" She complained with a smile and rolled eyes. More seriously she added, "But I heard the bandit problems are picking up. Three times I had to rush off to help a town a few hours away. The weather's leaving people hungry, and it looks like it's only getting worse." Raoul grimaced.

"Yeah, we helped with a mudslide and fought off some bandits, but they burned the town and got a few fields. It's even hitting the nobles. Prices are soaring and my squire -"

"You have another squire?!" she exclaimed, so loudly that it turned heads.

"Uh, yes. I do."

"And you were planning on telling me when, exactly?" she asked in a threatening tone. Raoul looked away, biting his lip innocently.

"Uh, right now?" She glared for a moment before he remembered what he was talking about. "Oh, as I was saying, the bandit raids are affecting nobles too. John himself said he's not sure how fancy mid-summer will be, seeing as there's no excess food in the average village."

Alanna nodded as she grabbed an omelette. "Yeah, but it's always too fancy anyways. I hardly think toning it down'll be a problem. So who's your new squire?"

"Rynn of SouthRidge."

"Another girl, I heard about her. Apparently she barely passed her exams." She frowned and Raoul couldn't blame her. "I'm surprised you chose her."

"Well she is a horrible shot,' he consented. "Even broke her string on her third try and never once hit center, but she's pretty good at every thing else. But, you know, they don't test pages with an axe." That caught Alanna's attention.

"An axe?!" She herself had once tried the commoner's weapon. "I hate the axe."

"Not Rynn. Wields it like she was born with one. You should see her. Actually, I saw her in the courts on my way down here. You should come down with me after breakfast, I haven't had a shoot-off with you in ages."

Alanna grinned, "No, but it sounds like it's your squire who should be practicing it."

XxXxX

Rynn was in the middle of her newest pattern dance, one Thompson (the only other axe-fighter in Raouls company) had shown her, when Alanna and Raoul arrived. Absorbed in her dance, she didn't notice them. Before her stood a leering bandit. She always practiced with one in her minds eye. This time it was the brown eyed bastard that had killed John. Slashing and dodging she cursed him under her breath.

"Damn you!" she hissed as he blocked yet another hammering blow at his neck. "Bastard," she muttered as he swung for her shoulder. "This time -" she grunted, lunging for his thigh. "I'll -" she recovered with a slash for his collar bone. "-kill you -" he faked for her knee and thrust at her heart. "-slowly!" Rynn hooked at his knees but he dodged. She broke from the dance and slammed furiously at his ribs, then his shoulder, thigh and stomach. He was on the defensive now, his sword ringing as he parried with both hands. Her dagger flashed in her hand. It was a backhanded trick she occasionally resorted to. With the axe in her left hand she threw with her right. His strong arm fell limp but he switched hands, Rynn cursed. He wasn't making it easy!

Alanna watched the young girl with an appreciative gaze. The axe was a hard weapon to manage, but she had mastered it well. Seamlessly she moved from attack to defense, throwing in fakes and dodges quite realistically. Rynn seemed to be muttering the steps under her breath, but it was a dance unlike any she had seen before. If Alanna hadn't known better, she would've thought the squire was actually fighting some unseen opponent. Going on the offensive Rynn struck with precise force, a scowl upon her face. Easily moving the axe into one hand, she pulled a dagger from her belt and threw it. It landed solidly in the fence a few yards away. Rynn lunged, but the drill wasn't finished.

Double handed once more, Rynn found herself defensive and didn't like that one bit. Growling deep within her throat she slammed her axe against his blade. A glimpse over his shoulder and Johns body flashed into view. "Murderer." she snarled, wrenching her axe away from contact and rolling back several feet. Once more he would've beaten her in a test of strength, but she wouldn't let him take such advantage. Leaping to her feet once more, Rynn Reached for his ankles and finally he was too slow. The jab left a scratch and he cussed her out furiously. She grinned manically. "Die." Her axe glinted ominously as it snaked forward in a fake. He fell for it, leaving his chest unprotected. He gasped as she hit just below his ribs. "Slowly." He was slowing down and she was biding her time. With a slice, she took out a chunk of his thigh. Blood was staining the sand, the putrid smell heavy on the hot air. His brown eyes were open and terrified. "Bastard." With a final fake to his head Rynn sliced open his stomach as she had in the past. He was screaming, his sword dropped to the ground, but she didn't give him mercy. "For John," she told him, and the list began. "John, Lisa, Alex, Susie," she muttered as the bandit began to fade. "Ma, Dad, Baby, Lucas, Aubrey, Sam," The stench of blood was slowly being replaced with humid, but fresh, air. "Lucifer, Andrew, Harper, Henry." Rynn retrieve her dagger from where it was lodge in the practice court fence. "Max, Francine, Nathan, Kevin." Her axe was clean once more. She was beginning to regain her breath. "Westly, Hannah, Isaac, Toby, Brennet." And Rynn realized she had an audience.

Turning slightly Rynn faced Raoul and his companion head on. "My lord and lady," she said with a bow. The Lioness had seen her. But as she smiled faintly, she felt slightly detached. _John, Lisa, Alex, Susie…_ Alanna was quick to speak.

"You're quite good with that axe," she said bluntly, startling a blush onto Rynn's flushed face. "Any good with the sword?" she inquired.

"Not so good," Rynn replied honestly. "But, I would like to be able to use both the axe and the sword at once."

Alanna nodded. "But truthfully, you'd hold your own with just the axe. Have you ever fought live?" Rynn flinched at the innocent question. _Ma, Dad, Baby, Lucas, Aubrey, Sam._

"Yes, ma'am." she answered simply. The Lioness didn't inquire further, but rather brought up a topic Rynn would never dream of hearing.

"Challenge you to a duel," the Kings Champion said casually. "Your axe, my sword, no blood." Rynn blinked, and nodded. She really couldn't say no. Raoul just rolled his eyes, obviously used to his shorter friend. "Meet you back here in half and hour, practice weapons," she said and walked off, Raoul following, to grab a duller sword. _Lucifer, Andrew, Harper, Henry. _

Rynn just stayed where she was. Her wood axe was plenty dull enough. Taking a drink from the nearby water bucket she shook her head and tried to focus. _Max, Francine, Nathan, Kevin. _Rynn was so out of schedule! Normally it didn't matter that the list still ran in her head once she finished her practice. However, fighting the Lioness would probably draw a crowd and she didn't need the distraction. Yet the faces and names flashed uncontrollably through her mind. _Westly, Hannah, Isaac, Toby, Brennet._ She wasn't over it. She probably never would be.

XxXxX

Stretched and ready, Rynn faced Alanna with a lot more than a few nerves, but the Lioness was relaxed. She wasn't scowling, just focused and it helped to calm Rynn a bit. Raoul, who served as referee, lowered his hand and they began. Alanna struck first, after all it was a test of Rynn's skill. Her axe raised to counter it, and at the familiar clack! Rynn's nerves faded away. It was just a fight, nothing more. Together they dodged, struck and blocked in sink for almost a minute, picking up pace and intensity. Strike, block, block, dodge, fake, slash, block - but her axe, as she had been warned by Raoul, couldn't stand any more hammering. With a crack! the over-sharpened head crumbled, the shards slashing into Rynn's face, even as she threw herself back to avoid the continuing motion of Alanna's blade.

Her back ached, her face stung her hip ached uncontrolably as she scrambled to her feet to face Alanna, only there was a short, sturdy bandit in her place. Dodging an attack that filled the space of her shock, Rynn tried to ignore her eyes as they flickered the image between a bandit and famous hero. The sword was following the same pattern in both, and she raised the shaft to counter it. The shattered metal base of her axe remained and she wasn't going to loose that fight! Blocking a strike to her stomach, Rynn began to mutter again.

"John_."_ Rynn faked for Alanna's stomach. "Lisa._" _ She followed up to her shoulder. "Alex." She blocked a slash at her knees. "Susie." Rynn dodged out of the way of a thrust to her heart. "Ma." She hooked for Alanna's ankles. "Dad." she blocked the bandits shot for her eye. "Baby," she read a fake to her left arm. "Lucas." Rynn threw a jab at his thigh.

Alanna's eyes widened slightly as her opponent began to mutter to herself. "Aubry." Rynn grunted as she blocked a butter fly sweep of her sword. Frankly Alanna was surprised she had lasted so long with a broken axe. "Sam." The girl struck for her neck. The death of a weapon was enough to startle the most seasoned warrior. It had certainly startled her when her sword was broken in the desert years ago. "Lucifer." However, Rynn had recovered very quickly. Alanna faked at the girls knees and followed up with an attack at her eyes. Rynn blocked them, eyes unnaturally wide, not with fear but something else.

"Andrew." Rynn growled. Her opponent, whichever person it was, was staying more and more in the form of the bandit. With missing teeth, he leered at her, his sword bloody with her family's blood. "Harper." she gasped as she felt the fire at her back. His attacks were pushing her backwards, the flames were licking too closely. In desperation to live, she slammed her axe harder in her attacks, not caring as it chipped and broke with every block. "Henry." she snarled as another shard cut her face. She had to make herself space. She was too close!

True fear was lighting Rynn's eyes as Alanna took control on the offensive, and as she pushed the girl back three steps, she found Rynn's technique suddenly changed. Where as many other fighters would keep backing and dodging until they could find a new opening, Rynn's feet suddenly refused to retreat. Blocking her attacks without budging an inch, she strangely allowed the blade to get closer and closer to her skin. Then, still saying that strange list of names, she had gone on the offense, seamlessly moving from block to strike to fake to block. Alanna, however, being the better duelist, didn't backup.

Smoke was chocking her, black ash obscuring her view as it stung her nose and sent her eyes watering. "Max." She muttered. Alex was suddenly beside her, "No, ye gotta go!" she told him as he moved to join in her fight. With the smoke tearing up her eyes, Rynn barely saw the blade snaking around her to nearly bite her feet. But Alex wouldn't move.

"The fire's outta control!" she tried to tell him. "Go! They're goin' t' the road!" she yelled in frustration as she slammed her axe out at the bandits open shoulder, but it was a bluff. The sword came slashing towards her side and Rynn threw herself to the side, quickly scrambling to get up. Again Alex tried to join her fight. Rynn was chocking on the smoke that now filled the entire road. The sparks were flying, cutting off their escape. "Alex," she snapped as she blocked another blow. "'S almost at Jacobs, ye gotta go now!" she told him. The sword wouldn't give her a break, the smoke was sending tears down her face as she chocked on the very air her lugs so desperately wanted. "Fer lil' Francy," she said, wishing her vision would clear. "Alex, go now." she demanded, and finally he fled. "Nathan, Kevin," she listed. Ahead the fire was blocking the road. It was all around her. "Westly, an' 'Annah," A beam of the Temple crashed across the road behind her. "Yer goin' down wi' me," she told the bandit she fought. "Issac." The inn collapsed, spraying debris and ash across the road. "Toby." Her mouth was dry, her skin was burning. "Brennet," she finished, and slamming her ax down one last time she was too slow. A twisting countermove wrenched the weapon from her hand and flung it out of the way. She was dead.

Alanna stared. The destroyed ax was feet away, but the young squire had put up a good fight. Frankly though, she was insane. There were tears in her eyes and she was coughing uncontrollably. Slumping to the ground it seemed the girl had no clue what was going on. She had been muttering at the begining, but at the end - that had been just creepy. Begging 'Alex' to leave as she fought with an axe handle. Talking about a fire - and the girl really did believe it. Sheathing her sword, Alanna crouched beside the girl, purple Gift-Covered hand extended and the girl didn't notice her. A hallucination, Alanna realized. On the other side of the fence, Raoul realized the same thing.

XxXxX

Having spelled her unconscious, Alanna let Raoul carry his squire indoors. Luckily for the girl the practice courts were empty as all reasonable human beings were inside eating breakfast, sleeping in or catching up with old acquaintances.

As he lay Rynn on the bed, Raoul noticed just how dark the circles under her eyes had gotten. It didn't take a genious to figure out what the problem was. Still, taking Rynn's callused hand between her own, Alanna sent her probing purple Gift into the squire to tell her what was wrong.

Fatigue. Extreme fatigue, to be precise. "Do you know when the last time she slept is?" she asked Raoul. He shook his head, frowning.

"Not really. Well, I thought she was sleeping every night. Don't know why she didn't tell me. Looking back I guess she was tired this week, but I just figured she was worried about the fight."

"Bandits?" Alanna asked, distractedly. Raoul nodded as his friend sent her Gift through Rynn's body once again. "Yeah, she's just exhausted. I've sent her to sleep, she probably wont wake up for a day or two. It's really weird, I've never seen someone so tired and functional. Well, I suppose hallucinations aren't _really_ functioning, but she really fought me. Just think how old that makes me!" she joked, relieved the illness was nothing more serious. "I'd like to fight her again when she's in top shape. A real duel, you know. Not a test. She fought a bit desperately and rather crudely, but she might be quite the warrior by her ordeal if you really work her." Raoul nodded.

"I've noticed. When we fought the bandits she beheaded four of them, injured two others."

"Beheaded?!" Alanna exclaimed

"Seems to be her favorite shot." he remarked dryly, staring at Rynn's still form. Even in sleep she had an angry look about her. "Absolutely loathes bandits, Emma does. Her fief was attacked by them before she even came here to train. Fought along side the entire village, kids and elderly included, apparently. You should ask her about it sometime. It seems like quite the tale even if she skimps royally on the details."

"She had to be what, ten, at the time? That's horrible!"

"Yeah, had quite the nightmare in the healers tent after the skirmish. Ha - she was hallucinating then, I bet. Rynn kept going on about blood on her hands and her shirt and how it wouldn't come off." The pair lapsed into thoughtful silence as they speculated and questioned. _But_, Alanna sighed, _the only one with real answers is asleep_. Standing she said,

"Send me a message when she wakes."

XxXxX

The next night, as Raoul took off his shirt to fall asleep a voice sent him strapping on his sword. The frantic sound was coming from Rynn's room. Opening the door he peered inside.

Tossing and turning on her cot, the sheets kicked to the floor, her pillow mashed against the headboard, Rynn was once again in the midst of a nightmare. A servant, obviously attracted by the noise, knocked on the door. Raoul opened it just a crack. "Go fetch the Lioness," he told him. The man nodded. Raoul turned back to the bed. A hand was gripping at the sheets, her head was shaking back and forth in a frantic manner as she muttered, "No, No!"

_She was fighting the Lioness, but she was grinning at her with hate in her violet eyes. Her long sword glinted in the sun as she slashed and faked, striking and thrusting mercilessly. Rynn stumbled back, trying to block her, but the sword kept slipping through her defense to slice at her. Her body was burning. The pain wouldn't leave her alone and this time she couldn't fight through it. She was trying to focus, but the faces of bandits kept taking their place. "John, Lisa, Alex, Susie!" she tried to scream. She had to remind herself. She couldn't give in!_

_Yet the her blue eyed brother had fire in his eyes, the pretty maid Lisa had a snarl twisting her face, Alex was missing teeth, raising a blood-stained axe, Susie was running through a flock of sheep, scattering the innocent creatures with a chilling screach and bloody knife in her fist…_

_She walked _

_through battle and haze _

_I asked her to stop _

_I begged her to stay _

_But she pressed on _

_So I lifted my sword _

_And I swung away _

_And the arrows _

_jumped through the smoke _

_And into the sand _

_That the blood now had soaked _

_She collapsed _

_with a flag in her hand _

_A flag white as snow _

_A hero of war_

_Is that what they see_

_Just medals and scars_

_So damn proud of me_

_Alanna's sword was aimed for her neck, but she couldn't move her arms. Is that what she was? Was her vision distorted? Instead of protector, was she a murderer, just like the bandits that destroyed her home? The blade was lowering, but she didn't move to stop it. A flag white as snow… The sword touched her neck _and with a jolt Rynn scrambled up in bed.

Raoul was sitting beside her in the chair from her desk, watching, but she couldn't stop the tears flooding from her eyes or the shaking of her hands as she felt her neck. Not even a prick, but she had been so ready, so uncaring… it scared her. Would she have given in so easily in real life? Had Alanna raised her sword against her, would Rynn have blocked it if she told her she was a killer? If she reminded Rynn of the men she had murdered?

Raoul watched sadly as his squire sobbed, her face turned away in shame as she tried to face whatever horrors were haunting her so badly, all alone. Finally though, she forced her breath to stop hitching and shoved all the tears from her face. Keeping her eyes down she faced him. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Do you have nightmares often?" At that moment Alanna slipped into the room. Rynn glanced up and flinched at the sight of her. The red head frowned as she noticed Rynn's gaze dart to the sword at her belt.

"Well, do you?" she asked, not letting the question slip by unanswered. Rynn nodded. "Why?"

Rynn shook her head as she spoke. "Their stupid, I know," she told Raoul. "But they don' go away. They're of the bandit attack at SouthRidge," she told the Lioness. "Well, usually." Rynn frowned. "This one was of you. But it was weird. Sort o' connected t' the battle, but it was such a mix…"

"What was it." It wasn't a question Rynn could ignore. Embarrassment clogged her throat and she just stared at her hands for a moment, but she knew she couldn't lie. He deserved the truth, he deserved to know what filth he'd asked to be his squire. She didn't want to tell, but… taking a shuddering breath she spoke to her fingers.

"Well, we were dueling like t'day, only Alanna was so much more, well, _evil_. You were part bandit - please forgive me ma'am. And I was on the defensive, like in the duel today, but you were chopping me up, like…" their silence forced her to fill in where her mind had begged her to be silent. "Like me." she whispered, then gushed, as if trying to explain really quickly so they didn't have the time to judge her. "But he had just killed John, see, and I was so furious. John was my brother! I-I was so, so angry. And the stomach wound… he was on the ground jus' trying to stay alive, and I was too late… I had to kill that man. I had to. But I wasn't good about it. I didn't behead him nice and clean like. I slit him up real good, tauntingly, because I hated him. I _hated_ him. But it doesn't excuse my actions, and it was absolutely horrible of me. I was so furious. I locked blades, but he was much stronger," she rambled as she tried to excuse and condemn herself at the same time. "I just snarled at him, told him he was going to die, and twisted away really quickly. I stunned him with the handle, and split him right open like he did John…" It took Rynn a moment, but she seemed to remember the original topic of the conversation. "But you didn't kill me, you just sliced me up and I needed to defend myself. I tried saying the list, but it didn't work this time and-"

"The list?" Alanna butted in for clarification.

"The list of the dead. John, Lisa, Alex, Susie, Ma, Dad, Baby, Lucas, Aubrey, Sam, Lucifer, Andrew, Harper, Henry, Max, Francine, Nathan, Kevin, Westly, Hannah, Isaac, Toby, Brennet_. _But it didn't work this time because they were all evil for some reason and it was like it was telling me that I was evil and you kept after me and it was like the song in the inn and I knew I was evil. I knew it. I was just as bad as the bandits. And your sword was coming for my neck just like my axe fell on their heads, like his fell on theirs, but I didn't block it. I just - I just couldn't." She sobbed. "I was evil. I am bad. I - I wanted to torture them when I killed them. I wanted to draw it out just like they did for my family, for my friends…"

Raoul just stared at his squire. Why in the world was she having all those emotional dilemmas? Kel never had them. He and his friends never had them, not that badly at least. But it seemed Alanna was more understanding than he, because she wrapped her in her arms and said softly,

"You know what, I wanted to torture them too."

XxXxX

The summer festivities the next night were a horrid affair for Rynn. Bathed and dressed once more in her fancy uniform she yawned as she tried to balance the heavy trays while serving Raoul and his table. It didn't help any that they were all highly influential and mostly all famous people staring at her as she passed out washbowls and soups. Raoul gave her a comforting grin and Alanna kindly distracted the man who kept glaring at her. Whether that was coincidental or not, Rynn'd rather not think about it.

The words from Alanna had meant a lot to her, and Rynn hadn't dreamed of being murderer again, but it was only one night. Instead she spent the evening tossing and turning about her mother's death. She shivered just to remember their cruel dissection of the pregnant woman. Just thinking about it brought the gruesome picture to mind and sent her fingers shaking so bad she couldn't pick up the empty bowls she was supposed to return to the kitchen. Before her the woman, wearing a plain blue dress, helped Rynn lift the bowl onto the tray. Meeting her hazel eyes, Rynn realized the woman was non other than the famous Kelandry herself. "Thank you ma'am," she whispered, trying to stop shaking, but the bowls were rattling at her hip.

Kel smiled, but looked a bit worried. Across the table Alanna's purple eyes also stared, calculatingly as she seemed to wonder if it was fatigue or nerves that gave Rynn the shakes so badly. With concentration, Rynn picked up the last three bowls successfully, and made it all the way to the kitchen before they fell from her hands with a clatter. Stunned, Rynn thanked the Goddess they were wooden and didn't break.

A page darted forward to snatch up the bowls and push her out of the way with a glare. He said something but Rynn was staring at her hands. They wouldn't stop trembling.

She managed to serve the next two courses without any major problems, and once the last dishes were returned she left. The rest of the nobles would be at the feast for a good few hours still, so she took the opportunity to go visit the practice courts. Her axe… it had been completely demolished in the duel. Suddenly she wondered how that had ended. Obviously Alanna had disarmed her, but Rynn couldn't remember how it had happened. She just remembered the hallucination. Oh how Rynn _hated_ her hallucinations.

The air outside was warm, the sun was still hovering above the hills, and the practice courts were empty. After a few quick warm up laps, Rynn hoisted a heavy battle axe onto her shoulder. A good way to gain strength was by practicing with things just a little to heavy. Lady Kelandry had mentioned that in a casual chat they'd had during her second year. Thankful for any advice, she'd taken it to heart.

Three years later, the axe she held was a bit too long and had a heavy shaft of some dark wood in which some runes, probably once serving to make it a bit lighter, had faded to mere scratches where a constant grip had worn the wood away. Rynn took an experimental swing. Yep, it was _very_ heavy. Once more she broke down a simple dance of moves. By the end of one repetition sweat had begun to pepper her brow. As she sped up, the liquid ran down her back staining her fancy shirt darkly as the blue cloth revealed just how hard she worked.

Slash, Block, Hit, Dodge. Her feet trampled the innocent dirt, beating the dust from its hard surface as if on some crazy cleaning spree. Slice. Block. Fake. The drill consumed her mind as adrenalin filled her veins, but, in the beginning, the bandit didn't appear before her eyes. The heavy weight required too much of her concentration for such things. Yet as the moves became more fluent and her body adjusted to the new size, her mind was able to wander. And, as adrenalin was necessary to keep the axe moving, it yanked up a suitable target to keep it occupied. As was most common, the bandit stuck to the pattern dance faithfully. Striking as she blocked and blocking faithfully with every strike, the lanky man weld the cutlass with little experience but strong instinct.

Sweat was going to be her death; Rynn knew it as she once more blinked the salty drops from her eye. Deciding to finish the dance one last time and call it a wrap, Rynn neatly faked at his chest and yanked his feet from beneath him. Cutlass and all, he disappeared before her eyes. Such bandits were no problem for her. They weren't true hallucinations because she knew exactly what they were going to do. More, they were a method of visualization that helped her focus her practicing more accurately when she couldn't find a real partner to spar with.

At a jog, Rynn cooled down before returning to the supply room where she found lifting the axe back onto the wall a job much more difficult than she had imagined. With a grunt she heaved it above her shoulders and it clanged against the wall with an embarrassing volume. Extremely thankful no one had witnessed her moment of weakness, Rynn left the room in the direction of the baths. It'd been a good work out and she was exhausted. That night she slept without nightmares.

XxXxX

"Alanna, why was she shaking last night?" asked Raoul. They were sitting in the gardens, enjoying a bit of privacy in a secluded twist in the path. "When I took her as squire, I thought it'd be simple. Not necessarily easy, but Kel was never this, well, messed up," he said, speaking frankly.

"I know, I would've thought the same," Alanna conceded. "The whole bandit thing, she doesn't really talk about it. I kept a bit more of an eye on her during training, and I never heard of this sort of thing. If she has the nightmares all the time, she knows how to cover it up."

"And that's another weird thing. I've only seen her with a nightmare once, but it seems like a constant problem. I don't think I'm right as her knight master. She needs someone more one-on-one. I mean, I have the entire Own to pay attention to. She seems to need a lot more attention than I've given her." Alanna nodded. A slight silence passed between them as Raoul worked up the nerve to ask a question that'd been haunting him for a while.

"It is, just fatigue, right? There nothing wrong mentally, is there?"

"No," said Alanna quickly. "I thought that as well and I checked it. It is just fatigue. She was ten, after all. I killed my first man as a squire, so did Kel, and John. There's a reason for that. We threw up: she has nightmares. Rynn didn't have time to set her beliefs in stone before she killed and I think that's why she's having such problems. You know the questions you had when you saw blood on your blade. What about their family? Who gave you the right to kill him? That sort of thing. You and I were able to realize we had that right because he made a choice. When a man begins to hurt our people, we have to defend them and if it means taking his life, that's what we'll do. I doubt Rynn ever made such decisions before hand." Raoul frowned, slowly nodding in agreement.

"I don't know what you're doing when the festivities end, but you're welcome to join us. Rynn would probably enjoy having a woman around," Raoul offered carefully.

"Yes, and I have a duel to reschedule."

There, another chapter done! Just three or four left to write I think… please review, it really does make me happy!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Thank you to all who review my little authors note, and I really am sorry about it! I'm posting this last written chapter, and I'll try to wrap it up in one more. Again, thank you reviewers!**

In the next week Rynn found life returning to normalcy as her sleep patterns returned to those she'd lived with during page training. There was a nightmare every two or three days, but she could fall back asleep after and found, as long as she didn't think about fighting, the past continued to stay in the past.

The Own was once again back on the road, and Rynn was pleasantly surprised to see that the lioness had decided to join them. For how long or why, Rynn had no clue, but it was fun having another woman around. The Lioness had even taken to practicing with her. They were once again stretching in a clearing near camp when Alanna saw fit to surprise her.

"You up to a duel, Rynn?" she asked suddenly, just as casually as a week previously. Rynn gaped.

"Another one? I mean, of course, Lioness." They stretched in silence while Rynn wondered how to phrase her next question. She never did get around to asking how the past duel had ended though, because just as she opened her mouth, Alanna stood up. Rynn followed suit and they bowed to each other before dropping into a fighting stance.

"Begin." said Alanna, and Rynn struck. She didn't care that it was unorthox to strike without waiting, the battle of wills had never been one she enjoied. Rynn quickly blocked as Alanna's counter move darted for her chest. It was fun, actually, battling the famous warrior. She knew she didn't stand a chance in real life, but this battle felt relaxed. They were going all out, Alanna sweeping her sword in butterfly cuts and jabs with fakes that fooled Rynn every time. Still, with quick feet and a good grip on her axe, she remained in the game for a while longer, each block buying her time, each strike balancing the playing feild.

Alanna was relieved when Rynn took a step back and didn't panic. True to her judgement, the squire was well once again and it would be a duel of true skill. As her quick sword slammed towards Rynn's thigh there was no name slipping from her lips as she dodged to the side. This time the list of the dead remained unspoken. Honestly, it was rather unnerving to hear such names fall so easily from the teenagers mouth.

Strike, fake, block, jab, hook. Rynn danced out of the way as her sword tried to twist about her axe and wrench it from her grip. _Not this time!_ She thought determindly. Putting a bit more force in her blows Rynn fought to regain footing. Slash. Hammer. Block. Block. Sweep - and her axe caught on the string of Alanna's boot. A little stumble was all it took for her axe to fake and lurch below her block and rest near her throat. The Lioness scowled.

She glared for a moment before knocking the axe aside and placing her own sword as Rynn's throat. "You won, but make sure you ask if I yeild before you stop next time," she reminded in her usual blunt fashion. A whistle made Rynn whirl around, raising her axe instinctively, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Behind her Alanna laughed.

The clash of their blades had drawn quite the crowd; a round a dozen young men lounged at the edge of the clearing, still sweaty from their own practice. "Heard you guys banging blades," said Leo. "So we figured we'd come and watch little Rynn get beat. As you could guess, we're rather impressed." Though he spoke for the group, they seemed in agreement. Thompson, a huge man who weld a giant axe was there too. Rynn blushed at the thought that he, who was so good with the weapon himself, seemed impressed by her luck.

"She beat me last time," Rynn was quick to acknowledge, it didn't seem to make the men less impressed, rather they found it funny.

"That woman behind you," drawled Leo. "The one with red hair and purple eyes, yeah her. She's the _Lioness_. Have you heard of her before? Kings Champion, retrieved the Domian Jewel, killed Duke Rodgers (twice I might add) do any of those words ring bells? Beating her once, heck, staying in the duel for a few minutes, is considered really good. Nod if you catch my drift." Rynn gave the tiniest of nods, her face flaming red. Alanna laughed again, seeming to be a bit awkward herself. Fortunately the men had other things to do, and headed back to their own practice. Rynn turned back to Alanna, slinging her axe into her belt.

"You fought well last time too." Rynn blinked, her eyes round as saucers. "You were deep in a hallucination, but I figured you'd feel all the better about the length of the duel." Rynn shook her head with embarrassment. "What did you see any ways?"

"I was at SouthRidge. It wasn't a real memory. I fought a bandit. Alex tried to join in, but I didn't let him. The fire had spread all down the road now and there wasn't going to be an escape," she said in a flat sort of tone. "He left, the smoke filled everything and I was disarmed."

Alanna nodded. "Do you still have nightmares?"

"Every once in a while."

(A/N: remember, Alanna is in her older years here, that she would occasionally be beat makes sense to me)

XxXxX

The rest of the month past easily. Thompson offered to teach Rynn some axe moves and she jumped at the great offer. Raoul began dueling her as well, and Alanna won all of their following spars. Things were looking up as they wandered around the counrty until the messanger showed up.

Rynn was running through a pattern dance in an open field when a shout sent her running. The men around her sheathed their swords as well and in a herd they rushed into camp. The sight of the messager, sweaty and barely hanging onto his sweat-soaked horse would sent shivers up and down her spine. An arrow was protruding from his back, apparently it had pierced through his shoulder as he galloped away for help. The blood had clotted around the wound. It looked a few days old.

"Bandits." She could hear him pant to Raoul. The camp was silent as they listened to his words. "They've attacked Rillies, and are heading towards Emerson. Others went to help," he rasped. "But they sent me to you as well, my lord." Raoul helped him from the saddle, passing the horse off to a near by man as a healer rushed over.

"I want two men - Abram and Joshua - to help this man to the next village once he's healed. Everyone else, we head out in ten minutes."

_Emerson?!_ the word rang in her head. The village was a loose part of SouthRidge, only three miles away. The village usually worked on its own, but relied upon her family for protection in times of danger, and tried to help out when the drought put them her debt. _They're attacking my people._ Was all she could think of. _They're ruining my home._ The men bumped into her still for as they hurried to pack. With her mind sluggishly trying to wrap around the shocking news, her fingers flew as she quickly disassembled her pack and readied her horse. It didn't surprise her that her hands shook so badly she could barely tighten the girth. Gritting her teeth she forced herself to breath deeply.

Still, her heart pounded in her ears as she mounted up. _Bandits. In her home. _She didn't bother to glance back as they left camp. The only important thing was getting there in time.

That night she didn't even bother to sleep, the nightmares flashed before her open eyes.

XxXxX

As she rode the next day she wondered just how many days it would take before she was trotting down a rode she'd run as a child. Already she was stealing double glances as they passed places and people she'd seen on her way to Corus. Waving to a little boy who recognised her she found herself smiling. He was quite memorable despite his growth, by the large red birth mark on his cheek. Tommy had shown her to the inn his parents owned on a day where the sky seemed determined to drown her by dropping a billion raindrops on her head. Raoul raised an eyebrow as the boy ran along side their trotting horses and shouted. "Ya comin' back, Ri?"

She shook her head, "On our way to Emerson," she said, though her smile faltered at the word.

"Oh," he looked sorely disappointed. "Well, ya sho' see Ma sometime. She'll be a wantin' t' see ye 'gain now ye've got cha self all fancy!" She smiled, remembering how the kind woman had let her borrow a spare dress 'cause her own clothes were sopping wet. '_Cho gonna catch yer self a cold lil' lassie!'_ she'd exclaimed in her thick common accent. '_Nahw yer ter rest 'ere ah t' fire an' I'll warm ye somethin' t' eat.'_

Tommy stopped and waved as she passed, then ran off, back to the little path she herself had tread for the two weeks she stayed, enjoying good food and working to pay back her meals and their hospitality despite Mrs. Sadie's insistence that it wasn't necessary. When they passed through the town Raoul kindly slowed to a walk as a woman ran out from an inn, all smiles with her dress held up in her fists and flour smeared all over her apron. Rynn just beamed at the rosy-cheeked woman.

"Ri!" she exclaimed. "Oi, Bart!" she hollered back into the inn. "Ri's 'ere!" A balding head poked out of the second story window. "Look, she's a carrin' 'er wood axe still. An look a' d'em men. Must be off t' the south." The woman called to her husband, completely disregarding the fact that the men and Rynn herself could hear every word. It appeared her husband, however, could not. Always hard of hearing, it appeared Barts ears had gotten even worse over the years.

"Must be off t' de bandits," the man said with a whistly voice, having lost his front teeth as a boy. "Ri's lookin' fine, ain't she. I tol' ye tha' she'd make it." he said nodding. The woman turned, frowning up at Bart.

"Nahw, don' cho go a lyin' now dat chur wrong, ye great lump! Ye de one dat tol' 'er tha' she should turn 'round and go help a' 'er 'ome! Almost sent 'er packin' if it weren't fer me and lil' 'Annah."

"Oh hush ye," the man laughed good naturedly. "I was just a makin' sure she knew wha' she was a leavin'."

"Yeah, an' I was born a noble," she scoffed. "Ge' back t' yer scrubbin'. I 'ear dat some merchants are rollin' through. G'luck Rynn!"

Muttering, but smiling and sparing a final wave to the young girl he'd taught to play poker and cook bacon, Bart retreated into the room Rynn herself had stayed in. Sadie too, returned inside, presumably to the kitchen to bake the thick, nut-filled bread she specialized in. Rynn grinned, and waved back enthusiastically, despite the laughter of the men around her.

"They don't do that when I walk through," Raoul complained playfully. Rynn blushed.

"I a stayed a' Sadie's place when I was a goin' t' Corus," she said, her voice unconsciously picking up the common accent she had once possessed so heavily. "'T'was real rainy soes I 'ung out." She grinned at the memory and Raoul was glad. Most of the time Rynn remembered, she seemed to be crying. "Lil' Tommy al'ays foller'd me 'round 'cause I stayed fer a week 'r so t' pay 'em back fer der 'ospitality."

"Did you grow up speaking rough common?" asked Alanna curiously.

"Oh, sorry. I did grow up wid it. Me teachers a' the castle hated that." She chuckled. "_Speak like a commoner one more time, SouthRidge," _she said mimiking the old ediquitte professor. _"And you'll be cleaning like a commoner until your exams!_ Needless to say I cleaned the stable from to back several times." And she'd spent the monotonous hours of work struggling to ignore the voices that talked to her.

_"Ri!" the little village girl, Francy, had kept calling to her from the hay stacks. "Come play 'ide an' seek!"_

_"Not now," she'd told the little rascal, always trying to be mature. "I 'ave t' 'elp John'thon clean 'ere. Mister Jacob even said Lari migh' give us a bit o' 'er pie if'n we does a good job t'day!" But the little girl wasn't __pacified__ with the far-off promise of a treat._

"Bu' I wanna play wi' cho now!" she complained, tugging on her breeches. "Please?" Sighing, Rynn gave in like always.

_"Let m' finish dis stall, den I'll play wi' coo fer a while." A huge smile light Francy's round face and Rynn couldn't bring herself to be annoyed._

Blinking herself out of the memory, Rynn found Raoul chortling at some joke she'd missed. "What were you thinking about?" asked Alanna.

Rynn smiled bitterly. "Lil' Francy." Alanna frowned; it was another name from the list.

XxXxX

They rode so long those next five days that it was all Rynn could do to slide out of the saddle and crawl into a bedroll when they stopped at night. Mercifully, she had perfectly dreamless sleep as they rushed towards Emerson. Her days, however, were not so kind.

Half a days ride away, Raoul let them rest in Westrean for a few hours to water the horses since the scout he sent ahead had returned saying the bandits had just left Transfern, a town two days away. As they walked to the river, Rynn caught yet another familiar face. Blonde curls bounced as Lillian dropped the water bucket back into the stream in surprise. Fishing it out she turned with a squeal, "Ri!" Dashing through the Own men she flung her arms around her childhood Best Friend Forever. "Oh goodness, I thought - well we don' get much news from South anymore and I'd a thought fer the longest time… Oh it's jus' so good t' see you!" she gushed like an eight year old. "You seen Miss Narrisah yet? I suppose not 'cause yer jus' headin' tha' way, but she's in a fluster I'm sure! The men are all gone t' Emerson. Yer goin' there to, I guess. Bandits rushed by us too las' month. Fought 'em off though, we did. Mostly." She looked so serious all a sudden Rynn felt her blood run cold.

"Who?" was all she could manage to choke out, her throat was suddenly dry.

"Ye should go see 'er, fer ye leave. Jus' real quick, bu' it's real 'portant. Get permission an' help me wi' the water. It's Mel. A man got her, an' it was real bad. Kansline 'as been takin' care o' 'er, but we've all been by lots t' say, well, you know…" Rynn nodded, her throat tight and hands shaking. Giving them something to do, she ran her hand through her hair and tapped her fingers on her axe at her hip.

"Let me go talk wi' Lord Raoul. Jus' a minute."

He was busy with his horse, which he claimed to enjoy taking care of himself. Looking up at her footsteps he waited for her to speak. "Sir, may I have a moment t' go visit a friend? I'll be real quick, but Lil' says she's not g - gonna be long." Raoul nodded.

"We're heading out in an hour, so give yourself time." She nodded with wide eyes, but there were no tears this time. Rynn was numb. Scrambling down the river bank she took the shoulder-stick and buckets for Lillian without saying a word. Quickly they took the well worn path through the tall grass to her house.

The house was a normal, commoners house: two rooms with an attic for Lillian and her sisters Beth and Helen to share. Outside, her mother tended the fields while her father was away. Setting the buckets on the ground beside the fire Rynn left at a run for Mel's house across the town.

The path was a familiar one that her feet, bare, booted, and sandled had tread since she was five. It was then that she had met Lillian. Traveling with her father, she had visited the near by towns and instantly found a bond with the blonde girl when she told Rynn she was just learning to ride. They had sprinted up that very path, away from the boring meeting the men were holding, to visit the old brown horse in her barn.

Dashing across the town Rynn was shocked to see how much more fit she was than her old friend. While Lillian was fully capable of the strenuous chores like fetching water and helping with the harvest, Rynn was easily out pacing her friend. There had been a time when their steps and panting breaths had sounded in sync. A lot had changed. Their lives were very different now.

Mel's house was the same run down shack it had been before. The door was poorly fitted to the frame, letting chilly drafts through in the winter and the window shutters looked to still be stuck closed as they weren't open like everyone else's were in the late summer heat. Hesitantly, Rynn knocked on the door, Lillian hovering beside her. A weak voice called from within. "If tha's you Lil', ye know ye can jus' come on in - " she stopped short as Rynn's face peered through the door.

"Uh, hi Mel. It's me, Rynn." There on the bed, the light from the door illuminated a grim skeleton of the lively redhead she had once known. The freckles that had once blended so easily with her tan skin stood out like the mumps on her pale face. Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Rynn?!" she exclaimed. At least her voice was the same. "Oh Goddess. I nev' even thought… I figured ye were long gone! Wha' brings ye back 'ere? Surely yer still trainin' wi' tha' ol' log-chopper o' yers."

'Yeah, I am," she laughed a bit at the old nickname Mel'd stuck so stubbornly to her beloved axe. "I'm back 'cause o' de bandits. But tha's not 'portant now." Stepping inside, Rynn crossed slowly to kneal at her bedside. "What - I heard the bandits came 'ere too." Mel nodded with a sigh.

"Yeah, it's nasty 'fected. Ye know Kansline's nev' been good wi' cleanin'. Much better wi' birthin' an' such. But, it's 'kay," she said quickly when the tears welled up in Rynn's eyes. "Look, it doesn't 'urt 't all. She's a given me stuff fer tha'. It's nice an' relaxin' not 'avin' t' do the chores or nothin'," she exclaimed. "An' I 'ave Lil 'ere t' keep m' nice an' comfy. She makes all my food an' I get t' harass 'er 'bout burnin' the bread." Rynn laughed at the sad attempt of humer. It wasn't okay. It- she wasn't supposed to be dying. She was supposed to be running around with Lillian still and hanging off the arm of some handsome boy like the smiths son she used to have a fancy for. She shouldn't be lying near death. Rynn was supposed to have stopped that.

Rynn took her hand gently, it was all skin and bones. "Burnt or not, ye should be eatin' more, Melly." Before the atmosphere got too dark, Lillian sat on the edge of the bed.

"Ye still 'ave an while 'til ye go, so ye better not waste it a mopin'. Tell us 'bout yer adventures. Ye must o' seen so much, wanderin' the country with them soldiers."

Forcing herself to smile, Rynn gazed at Mels face as she began, "Yeah. There was dis one time when I was ridin' wi' the Own when Lord Raoul, he runs the whole thing, he hadn't eaten very much dat day…" quietly she told the funny story, but her mind wasn't focused. Mel was dying because of a bandit attack in a town Rynn was supposed to protect. Maybe she should have stayed at home like Bart said. Sure, becoming a knight was great, but wasn't her first duty to the people of the villages her fief protected? How would she ever be a good knight if she couldn't help the very people she was born to protect? When her time was running out, Rynn stood, hugging Mel awkwardly for the last time. "Ye've always been a great friend," Rynn chocked out through blurry eyes. "I'm sorry I 'aven't been 'round fer the last years, but I still love ye like a sister." Mel tried to shake it off with a laugh, but Rynn could she that it mattered to her. With a last smile and a wave, Rynn turned away from the house. Running down the hill she didn't dare look back or she knew she _would_ cry. But it wasn't the time for that. Lillian panted beside her: neither said anything.

When the Own, once more saddling their horses, came into view, they stopped and stood awkwardly silent. "You be careful," Lillian told her roughly. "An' get some bandits fer me, 'kay?" Rynn smiled softly.

"I'll do tha'. Ye take care o' Mel an' yer Ma while pap's 'way. I'm sayin' bye fer now, but what de ye know, we migh' come back through 'ere when de 'ole bandit buisness is over." They hugged again breifly. "Take care, Lil'." And she jogged off. Now wasn't the time to worry about good byes or mistakes. It was a day for vengence and she had one more name to add to her list.

Saddling Clover she glared. "John, Lisa, Alex, Susie, Ma, Dad, Baby, Lucas, Aubrey, Sam, Lucifer, Andrew, Harper, Henry, Max, Francine, Nathan, Kevin, Westly, Hannah, Isaac, Toby, Brennet, Mel."

XxXxX

The journey from Westrean to Emerson was the longest trip she'd ever taken. Around every corner was a familiar face or house or path. This was where she'd grown up; the land she'd explored as a mere child; the place she loved every aspect of and knew like the back of her hand, and it was under attack. Pursing her lips she rode in silence. Beside her Raoul and Alanna talked strategy, but that wasn't anything Rynn cared about. As important as it was, all she wanted to do was run in and kill them. Nightmares be darned. She'd take the nightmares every day just to get the chance to exterminate all those bastards that dared harm her people. This was her chance, and she wasn't about to loose it. The list was already playing in her head, as the lust for blood began to run through her veins.

"How are you feeling, Rynn," Raoul asked, knowing a dying friend was hardly anything easily dealt with. The girl that faced him though was not grief-stricken. She was furious.

"I'm going to kill them, sir." she told him. "Every one I can get to." And Raoul knew she was dead serious.


End file.
